To your entrancing melody of verse,
And, from that hour, of your belovéd image
Makes a life-idol. And you know it all,
And smile, half-pleased, and half in scorn, to know.
But you have never known, nor shall you now,
Who, ’mid the throng you sometimes meet, receives
Your careless recognition with a thrill,
At her adoring heart, worth all that homage!
You see not, ’neath her half-disdainful smile,
The passionate tears it is put on to hide;