[_Written with French chalk[Q] on a pane
of glass in the home of a friend._]
On this frail glass, to others' view,
No written words appear;
They see the prospect smiling through,
Nor deem what secret's here.
But shouldst thou on the tablet bright
A single breath bestow,
At once the record starts to sight
Which only thou must know.
Thus, like this glass, to stranger's gaze
My heart seemed unimpress'd;
In vain did beauty round me blaze,
It could not warm my breast.
But as one breath of thine can make
These letters plain to see,
So in my heart did love awake
When breath'd upon by thee.