But she hung on his steps wherever he went,
And shut from the chamber the rose's scent.
She slept not a wink, for fear he should think
She dream'd not of Love—so her eyes grew dim;
She took no care of her beautiful hair,
For she could not spare one moment from him.
Love's bright fireside grew dark with doubt,
Yet home was a desert if Love went out;
In vain were his vows, caresses, and sighs;
"O Love," cried the lady, "I've given you eyes!