Where these stand sentinels, 'tis hallowed ground.
Speak but a thrilling word, and you shall meet
In those so dreamy eyes, that heed you not,
The shadow of your own ecstatic thoughts,—
Those lips, so passive now, shall echo back
The earnest tones of your own eloquence.
But do not measure her internal strength
By any standard of man's magnitude.
Nor think to fathom what no eye can reach,—
She hath a woman's heart, and it hath been