I know not now, but ’twould be engraven
Some day hence as the loveliest hue.
Many a face I have liked for a minute,
Been charmed by a voice with a pleasant ring
But ever and aye there was something in it,
Something that could not be his, my King!
I will not dream of him, handsome and strong,
My ideal love may be weak and slight;
It matters not to what class he belong,
He would be noble enough in my sight.