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When, close by thy side, I am with thee alone,
Thy soft hand so tenderly clasp'd in my own;
When the soul is abandon'd to placid delight,
And the hours fly away, but we feel not their flight;
While my glances still linger enamour'd o'er thee,
As over the honey-rose hovers the bee;
How often, alas! through the depth of my heart
A pang, a vague fear, like an arrow will start!
Thou feelest me shudder, the paleness of woe
In the midst of our happiness saddens my brow;
All anxious and loving, thou raisest thy face,
Thine arms flung around me in winning embrace;
Thou bidd'st me the source of my sorrow to tell,
But sharest the anguish thou can'st not dispel;
And the tremulous tears on thy long lashes shine,
Still ready to soothe or to mingle with mine.
Thy soft hand so tenderly clasp'd in my own;
When the soul is abandon'd to placid delight,
And the hours fly away, but we feel not their flight;
While my glances still linger enamour'd o'er thee,
As over the honey-rose hovers the bee;
How often, alas! through the depth of my heart
A pang, a vague fear, like an arrow will start!
Thou feelest me shudder, the paleness of woe
In the midst of our happiness saddens my brow;
All anxious and loving, thou raisest thy face,
Thine arms flung around me in winning embrace;
Thou bidd'st me the source of my sorrow to tell,
But sharest the anguish thou can'st not dispel;
And the tremulous tears on thy long lashes shine,
Still ready to soothe or to mingle with mine.