And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,—
If passing now, would blindly overlook thee.
The heart doth recognize thee, 25
Alone, alone! the heart doth smell thee sweet,
Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete,
Perceiving all those changes that disguise thee.
Yes, and the heart doth owe thee
More love, dead rose, than to’ any roses bold 30
Which Julia wears at dances smiling cold:—
Lie still upon this heart which breaks below thee!