Why earth could be unhappy, while the heavens
Still left us youth and love! We’d have no friends
That were not lovers, no ambition, save
To excell them all in love; we’d read no books
That were not tales of love—that we might smile
To think how poorly eloquence of words
Translates the poetry of hearts like ours!
And when night came, amidst the breathless heavens
We’d guess what star should be our home when love
Becomes immortal; while the perfumed light