The night has a thousand eyes;—
The day but one;
Yet the light of the whole world dies
With the setting sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes—
The day but one;
Yet the light of the whole world dies
When love is done.
On this spotless page my pen essays to trace a record of affection; and, as I write, a wish is in my heart that, for thee, every life-leaf will be written with the golden pen of love.