Not Lived in Vain

Have I not worshipped thee m tender lays,
And told in barren rhymes my love for thee;
And now I wish that I no more might see,
Or ne'er had seen that fair, alluring face.
Or as a tune felt that lithe body's grace
Melt through my heart, that leap'd up eagerly
With joy of hope: now hope no more may be;
For hope Ues dead, amid the dear, dead days.

Still, if the bitterness of unshed tears,
And burden of a spirit sorely tried,
Did e'er with joy of maiden's victory fill
Thy woman's heart, then surely these sad years
Have been well lived, nor, sweet, would I have died
Till thy heart had of mine its perfect will.