Disdain

Thy very smiles my heart o'ershade,
They speak but of thy cold disdain;
Could I uproot thee thence, fair maid!
My heart might rest in peace again.

Thy gentle spirit cannot know
What hours of woe I pass for thee;
Thou couldst not try affection so,
Nor trifle with a wretch like me.

How oft, in evening's twilight hour,
I've pass'd for thee thy dwelling round,
And struggling 'gainst love's mighty power,
With heavier, heavier chains was bound!

List, O my treasure! List! for all
Are thine of thought's best offerings:
List to thy slave's, thy suppliant's call—
Break his dark chains, and lend thy wings.