wait to hear my heart reply.

Alone the priceless feast spread for mine eye,

Like shimmering sunbeams over drifts of snow;

Whose dangers or delights but Love can know.

That crimson mouth from which sly Cupid borrowed The pattern for his bow, nor asked consent; That smooth, unruffled brow which has not sorrowed— All these are mine; should I not be content? Yet are these treasures mine, or only lent me? And who shall claim them when I pass away? Oh, jealous Fate, to torture and torment me With thoughts like these in my too fleeting day!

The pattern for his bow, nor asked consent;

All these are mine; should I not be content?

And who shall claim them when I pass away?

With thoughts like these in my too fleeting day!

For while I gained the prize which all were seeking, And won you with the ardor of my quest, The bitter truth I know without your speaking— You only let me love you at the best. E'en while I lean and count my riches over, And view with gloating eyes your priceless charms, I know somewhere there dwells the unnamed lover Who yet shall clasp you, willing, in his arms.

And won you with the ardor of my quest,

You only let me love you at the best.

And view with gloating eyes your priceless charms,

Who yet shall clasp you, willing, in his arms.

And while my hands stray through your clustering tresses, And while my lips are pressed upon your own, This unseen lover waits for such caresses As my poor hungering clay has never known, And when some day, between you and your duty A green grave lies, his love shall make you glad, And you shall crown him with your splendid beauty— Ah, God! ah, God! 'tis this way men go mad!

And while my lips are pressed upon your own,

As my poor hungering clay has never known,

A 

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