What tho’ mine eye thro’ dreary distance faileth
In its deep search to hail thy welcome form?
What tho’ my cheek thro’ long, long watching fadeth,
And my sad heart leaps not so freshly warm?
Still unto thee no eyes beam brighter lustre,
No vermeil cheeks thy early love’s outshine;
Around no heart do richer feelings cluster,
Than swell in that which is so wholly thine.
Why do I mourn that mountain billows sever?
Vain may they strive our spirits to divide,