I’ve blest thee in the hour of sleep,
I’ve felt thy heart beat wild to hear
Love’s cadence stealing on thine ear,
And I have been supremely blest
When thou wast folded to my breast,
And thy dear lips were pressed to mine—
But wilt thou be my Valentine?
Dove of my spirit! gentle dove,
That bring’st the olive-bough of love
To me when waters vast and dark