Love without hope

Her features speak the warmest heart,

But not for me its ardour glows;

In that soft blush I have no part

Thet mingles with her bosom's snows.

In that dear drop I have no share

That trembles in her melting eye;

Nor is my love the tender care

That birds her heave that anxious sigh.

Not fancy's happiest hours create

Visions of rapture as divine,

As the pure bliss which must await

The man whose soul is knit to thine.

But ah! Farewell this treacherous theme,

Which, though'tis misery to forego,

Yields yet of joy the soothing dream,

That grief like mine thou ne'er shalt know.