THEE, THEE, ONLY THEE.

The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking,

The night's long hours still find me thinking

Of thee, thee, only thee.

When friends are met, and goblets crowned,

And smiles are near, that once enchanted,

Unreached by all that sunshine round,

My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted

By thee, thee, only thee.

Whatever in fame's high path could waken

My spirit once, is now forsaken

For thee, thee, only thee.

Like shores, by which some headlong bark

To the ocean hurries, resting never,

Life's scenes go by me, bright or dark,

I know not, heed not, hastening ever

To thee, thee, only thee.

I have not a joy but of thy bringing,

And pain itself seems sweet when springing

From thee, thee, only thee.

Like spells, that naught on earth can break,

Till lips, that know the charm, have spoken,

This heart, howe'er the world may wake

Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken

By thee, thee, only thee.