BY C. F. HOFFMAN.

I know thou dost love me--ay! frown as thou wilt,

And curl that beautiful lip

Which I never can gaze on without the guilt

Of burning its dew to sip.

I know that my heart is reflected in thine,

And, like flowers that over a brook incline,

They toward each other dip.

Though thou lookest so cold in these halls of light,

'Mid the careless, proud, and gay,

I will steal like a thief in thy heart at night,

And pilfer its thoughts away.

I will come in thy dreams at the midnight hour,

And thy soul in secret shall own the power

It dares to mock by day.

The New-York Book of Poetry · 第 20 / 306 题