Thee, Thee, Only Thee.

The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking,
The night's long hours still find me thinking
        Of thee, thee, only thee.
When friends are met, and goblets crowned,
    And smiles are near, that once enchanted,
Unreached by all that sunshine round,
    My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted
        By thee, thee, only thee.

Whatever in fame's high path could waken
My spirit once, is now forsaken
        For thee, thee, only thee.
Like shores, by which some headlong bark
    To the ocean hurries, resting never,
Life's scenes go by me, bright or dark,
    I know not, heed not, hastening ever
        To thee, thee, only thee.

I have not a joy but of thy bringing,
And pain itself seems sweet when springing
        From thee, thee, only thee.
Like spells, that naught on earth can break,
    Till lips, that know the charm, have spoken,
This heart, howe'er the world may wake
    Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken
        By thee, thee, only thee.