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"How sweetly," said the trembling maid,
Of her own gentle voice afraid,
So long had they in silence stood,
Looking upon that tranquil flood —
"How sweetly does the moonbeam smile
To-night upon yon leafy isle!
Oft, in my fancy's wanderings,
I've wish'd that little isle had wings,
And we, within its fairy bowers,
      Were wafted off to seas unknown
Where not a pulse should beat but ours,
      And we might live, love, die alone!
Far from the cruel and the cold, —
      Where the bright eyes of angels only
Should come around us, to behold
      A paradise so pure and lonely.
Would this be world enough for thee?" —
Playful she turn'd, that he might see
      The passing smile her cheek put on;
But when she mark'd how mournfully
      His eyes met hers, that smile was gone;
And, bursting into heartfelt tears,
"Yes, yes," she cried, "my hourly fears,
My dreams have boded all too right —
We part — forever part — to-night!
I knew, I knew it could not last —
'Twas bright, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past!
Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour,
      I've seen my fondest hopes decay;
I never lov'd a tree or flower,
      But 'twas the first to fade away.
I never nurs'd a dear gazelle,
      To glad me with its soft black eye,
But when it came to know me well,
      And love me, it was sure to die!
Now too — the joy most like divine
      Of all I ever dreamt or knew,
To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine, —
      Oh misery! must I lose that too?