I love thee, I love thee;
  In vain I endeavour
To fly from thine image;
  It haunts me for ever.

All things that rejoiced me
  Now weary and pall;
I feel in thine absence
  Bereft of mine all.

My heart is the dial;
  Thy looks are the sun;
I count but the moments
  Thou shinest upon.

Oh royal, believe me,
  It is to controul [sic]
Two mighty dominions,
  The Heart and the Soul.

To know that thy whisper
  Each pang can beguile;
And feel that creation
  Is lit by thy smile.

Yet every dominion
  Needs care to retain --
Dost thou know when thou pain'st me
  Or smile at the pain?

Alas the heart-sickness
  The doubt and the dread,
When some word that we pine for
  Cold lips have not said!

When no pulses respond to
  The feelings we prove;
And we tremble to question
  'If this can be love;'

At moments comparing
  Thy heart with mine own,
I mourn not my bondage,
  I sigh for thy throne.

For if thou forsake me
  Too well I divine
That no love could defend thee
  From sorrow like mine.

And this, Oh ungrateful,
  I most should deplore--
That heart thou hadst broken
  Could shield thee no more!