Threw wide, like spells, each passage to our hearts
That caution should have guarded. “We knew not
Our own minds, poor young pair,” they said. “At least,
Our love could wait: meantime, whose love could claim
Our trust, like theirs whose treasure lay in us?”
XXIX.
And then to me alone they spoke of Haydn:—
“He passionate had been:—how knew I when
His passion might be turn’d against myself?