The unconquerable pang of despised love.
She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
Small service is true service, while it lasts.
Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.