And never a glance they give.
And I could love so well, so well!
If one would but tarry and tell
A tale that was told to me only:—
My lover might go his ways,
But through all the nights and the days
I should never again be lonely!"
Then sudden there fell a look
Into that violet's heart.
It lifted its face with a start;
It arose; it trembled and shook.
"At last, O, at last!" it cried;
Down drooped its head, and it died.
Is God in Heaven! Is the light
Of the moons, and the stars, and the suns,
His—or the Evil One's,
Is He cruel, or mad, or right!
The lily that grew by the wall,
Its heart was heavy with bliss.
In the night it heard a call;
It listened, it felt a kiss;
Then a loving Wind did fall
On its breast, and shiver with gladness:
The morning brought love's madness
To light,—and the lover fled.
But the eyes that burned in his head
Shot love through each and all,
For the lily that bloomed by the wall
Shone sweet in every place,—
In the earth, and the sky above,
And the lover saw never the face
Of the flower that died of love.
