ONE glance from thy dark eyes is all I pray for,
One word from thy lips breathed on mine,
One clasp of thy dear hand as a last favour—
Then go—I'll never more repine.

Yet, thoughts of thee will dim my eyes with weeping,
In the noon-day's glorious light,
And dreams of thee will haunt my troubled sleeping,
'Neath the shadows of the night.

A fatal gulf for ever lies between us,
I know we dare not speak of love,
Yet angels, purest angels, had they seen us,
Might well have pardoned from above.

The future is too dark for my sad seeing;
I gaze, but, weeping, turn away—
No hope, alas! of our ever being
Less sad than we are here this day.