Still unto thee my fancy flies,
With thee my thoughts and visions dwell,
And from thy soft, celestial eyes
Comes sunshine to my hermit-cell.
I love thee! nay—turn not away!
I dare not hope—’twere worse than vain
To cherish in my heart a ray
Of feeling fraught with grief and pain.
All but thy image I resign;
With that I cannot part—it glows