And her whole being thrilled with an infinite bliss.
But the whispered “My darling,” she longed for in vain,
For his lips, when not kissing, would silent remain.
O why wouldn’t he whisper, “My darling?”
He loved her. His arms held her quivering form close to him;
She felt his hot breath on her soft, blushing cheek.
She knew that he loved her. With passionate tenderness then
He clasped her still closer. Her own will grew weak.
Would the sweet, longed-for words from his lips never come?
Alas! never, poor girl! For her lover was dumb.