The sweetness of his large cerulean eye!
His noble forehead, and his graceful air,
Which Love himself might view with jealousy.
For me—I am not jealous of his love,
And gladly I divide it, sweet, with thee;
Thou shalt, like him, a faithful husband prove,
But not, like him, give this anxiety.
I speak to thee—thou understand’st me not—
Thou could’st not understand though sleep were fled—