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LORSQUE SEUL AVEC TOI.

FROM DE LAMARTINE.

When, close by thy side, I am with thee alone,Thy soft hand so tenderly clasp'd in my own;When the soul is abandon'd to placid delight,And the hours fly away, but we feel not their flight;While my glances still linger enamour'd o'er thee,As over the honey-rose hovers the bee;How often, alas! through the depth of my heartA pang, a vague fear, like an arrow will start!Thou feelest me shudder, the paleness of woeIn the midst of our happiness saddens my brow;All anxious and loving, thou raisest thy face,Thine arms flung around me in winning embrace;Thou bidd'st me the source of my sorrow to tell,But sharest the anguish thou can'st not dispel;And the tremulous tears on thy long lashes shine,Still ready to soothe or to mingle with mine.
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