With you, forgets her song, foregoes her mirth,
And hushes all her music in her heart.
It is because your soul, that should know hers
With an intuitive tenderness, is blind!
But once again you met; then, years went by,
And in a thronged, luxurious saloon,
You drew her fluttering hand within your arm;
A few blest moments next your heart it lay;
And still the lady mutely veiled, from yours,
Eyes where her glorious secret wildly shone;