But the one thought that thou art near.
Then pleasure, with its thousand smiles,
Will vainly strive this heart to free:
No joy I’ll see but in those smiles,
No rapture feel away from thee.
And when existence’s span is run
And death impatient waits for me,
My soul, as to its earthly sun,
Will turn a lingering look on thee:
E’en when the last sad scene of life