MY faint spirit was sitting in the light
     Of thy looks my love；
     It panted for thee like the hind at noon
     For the brooks my love.
     Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight
     Bore thee far from me；
     My heart for my weak feet were weary soon
     Did companion thee.
     Ah！ fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed
     Or the death they bear
     The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove
     With the wings of care；
     In the battle in the darkness in the need
     Shall mine cling to thee
     Nor claim one smile for all the comfort love
     It may bring to thee.