All that is lovely, and young, and fair,
Charms the soul with beauty and grace,
And my third shall meet you face to face.
III.
When war's red hand was raised to slay,
And front to front great armies lay,
Then, oft in the silent midnight camp,
When naught was heard but the sentry's tramp,
As he patiently paced his lonely round,
My whole was sought, and yet when found,