Could I reveal the secret joy Thy presence always with it brings, The memories so strangely waked Of long forgotten things, The love, the hope, the fear, the grief, Which with that voice come back to me, --Thou wouldst forgive the impassioned gaze So often turned on thee.
It was, indeed, that early love, But foretaste of this second one, --The soft light of the morning star Before the morning sun.
The same dark beauty in her eyes, The same blonde hair and placid brow, The same deep-meaning, quiet smile Thou bendest on me now, She might have been, she WAS no more Than what a prescient hope could make, --A dear presentiment of thee I loved but for thy sake.
