I know that thou art far away,
Yet in my own despite
My still expectant glances stray
Inquiring for thy sight.
Though all too sure that thy sweet face
Can bless no glance of mine,
At every turn, in every place,
My eyes are seeking thine.
I hope--how vain the hope, I know--
That some propitious chance
May bring thee here again to throw
Thy sweetness on my glance.
But, loveliest one, where'er thou art,
Whate'er be my despair,
Mine eyes will seek thee, and my heart
Will love thee every where.