O! I loved her; (may I be
For it forgiven—for it forgiven;)
Rather, than a thing of clay,
As a thing of Heaven—a thing of Heaven;
Feelings, none I had but went
Straightway there—straightway there;
When I prayed, her image blent
With my prayer—with my prayer.
When she went, there was I,
Like her shade—like her shade—