Nay, it was thou, when the fair Evening Star
Leaned on the purple bosom of the West;
'Twas thou, when o'er the far hills' frowning crest
Fell the soft beams of Cynthia's silv'ry car:
Thyself—than stars and moonbeams fairer far—
A vision in ethereal beauty drest!
But, when thy head drooped flow'r-like on my breast,
Then did no word our souls' communion mar:

Love spake to love without a sign or glance,
And heart to heart its inmost depth revealed
In the deep thrilling silence of that trance,
Till earth, and earthly being ceased to be,
And our blent souls at that high altar kneeled
Whence Love doth gaze upon Eternity!