Could I but see thee, dear my love!
That face—but once! Not dazzling bright—
Not as the blest above
Behold it in God’s light—
But as it look’d at La Salette;
Or when, in Pyrenean wild,
It beam’d on Bernadette,
The favor’d peasant child.
Once seen—a moment—it would blind
These eyes to beauty less than thine: