The Return Home, 82

Thy voice and thine eye, when we first saw each other,
Convinced me thou saw’st me with heart not estranged;
And had it not been for thy tyrant mother,
I think that we kisses should straight have exchanged.

To-morrow again I depart from the city,
And on, in my olden course, wander I;
At the window my fair one is lurking in pity,
And friendly greetings I throw up on high.