VIII.
Bitter the thought that years may pass—
Yet thus it must be ever,
To look on thy form, to hear thy voice—
But nearer—never, never.
IX.
Could I but love as I love the stars,
Or the gush of the twilight breeze,
Or the pale light of the wandering moon
Glancing through forest trees;
X.
With a sinless, calm, untroubled love,
Look upwards and adore—
Could I but thus gaze life away,
Without the wish to soar.
XI.
In vain! in vain! I hope, I weep,
I kneel the long nights in prayer—
Oh! better to die in the noon of life,
Than love, and yet despair.