To his maiden’s lattice nigh,

Till he heard that lattice sound—

Till that dearest form was seen—

Till she on her lover smil’d—

And the turret-grates between

Look’d devout and angel-mild.[4]

There he sate thro’ many a day,

Thro’ many a year’s revolving round—

Alike to hope and grief a prey,

Till he heard the lattice sound.