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.