To pass, nor leave behind her blight.
Fearless the eyes, and full of thought,
As though Life's secret fain she'd know;
Grace, of a wildness all untrained,
Wraps her within its subtile glow.
And, as she treads her way a-field
I know she seeks me, me alone!
O child! my heart grows weak, to-night,
To stifle now its secret moan!
What will ye bring her, Love and Life?