Had I not felt that heavenly glow,
And, match’d with it, found earth so vain.
She came: she went: I know I dream’d;
Nor dared to test fond hopes that gleam’d;
But yet how dear the future seem’d,
And, though it was the world, how real!
Ah, wherefore did she leave so soon,
And change to night what had been noon!
Did Heaven sufficient deem the boon
To grant to me a form ideal?