The glorified of love! But she—she look'd
Only on him for whom 'twas joy to die,
Deep—deepest, holiest joy!—or if a thought
Of the warm sunlight, and the scented breeze,
And the sweet Dorian songs, o'erswept the tide
Of her unswerving soul—'twas but a thought
That owned the summer loveliness of life
To him a worthy offering—so she stood
Wrapt in bright silence, as entranced awhile,
Till her eye kindled, and her quivering frame