As in thy watchings ere I sink to sleep;
And I will give the bending, flower-like grace
Of that soft form, and the still sweetness throned
On that pale brow, and in that quivering smile
Of voiceless love, a life that shall outlast
Their delicate earthly being. There! thy head
Bow’d down with beauty, and with tenderness,
And lowly thought—even thus—my own Teresa!
Oh! the quick-glancing radiance and bright bloom,
That once around thee hung, have melted now