Bid fl—rs forget to blush and pine,
But bid not me to b—n—sh w—e!
Thou canst not guess my s—rr—w's source,
My pass—n's spring thou canst not see;
Thou knowest not its depth and force,—
Thou dreamest not 'tis l—ve for th—!
Fiercer than fires in Æ—a's breast
My s—cr—t burns in this lone h—t;
D—y brings no light, sl—p yields no rest,
And h—vn no air, but where th— art.