With golden dreams of future bliss her gentle soul was filled—
Unsullied by the world’s cold strife, its darkness and untruth,
When in its tender infancy, the guileless love of youth.
She thought the world could ne’er be lone while one might not depart,
Who was the worshiped idol of her young and trusting heart;
His dark eyes woke the flame within of soul-lit lustrous hue,
To be unquenched—the holy light of pure devotion true.
Genius marked his lofty brow for wreathing chaplets fair,
And from the deeply-treasured fount of knowledge rich and rare,
She quaffed the crystal streams that flowed, with kind and fervent heart,