While thou art blest I’ll not repine;
But near thee I can never stay;
My heart would soon again be thine.
I deem’d that time, I deem’d that pride
Had quenched at length my boyish flame;
Nor knew, till seated by thy side,
My heart in all,—save hope,—the same.
Yet was I calm: I knew the time
My breast would thrill before thy look;
But now to tremble were a crime—