Have brought their gifts from far:
I only think the smiles thou giv'st,
So freely unto them,
If given to me, would bless me more,
Than thrones or diadem.
I love thee, and this throbbing heart,
From thrall no longer free,
Must heave in joy, or ache with wo,
Till Death's dark hour, for thee.
I feel that I must know thy love,