Her sweet home desolate;
Thus timidly I seek in thine
The only heart that throbs with mine.
“How have I thought of thee? As turns
The flower to meet the sun,
E’en though when clouds and storms arise
It be not shone upon;
Thus, dear one, in thine eyes I see
The only light that beams for me.”
She had not waited more than an hour before her father returned with such a radiant face that she knew before he spoke he brought good news.