Yet ’tis not so: unwillingly are heard
My vows, and all regardlessly are flung
Her eyes o’er burning lines wherein is sung
Her matchless beauty, and my grief is bared.
But yet I hope that some day she may deign
To hearken to the tribute I have brought
And smile at least return for all my tears.
Still it may be I’ll languish here in vain
Until that dread catastrophe is wrought,
When time shall harvest all its sheaf of years.