A galaxy of glances bright,
A sweet bouquet of smiles,
A crucible of melting words
Bewitched me with their wiles!

I wished to live retired, to love
The flowers and bosky glades,
The blue sky's lights, the dew of morn,
The evening's mists and shades;

To scan my destiny's dark page,
In thought my hours employ,
And dwell in meditation deep
And visionary joy.

Then near me stirred a breath that seemed
A waft of Eden's air,
The rustle of a maiden's robe,
A tress of shining hair.

I sought to make a comrade dear
Of the transparent brook.
It holds no trace of memory;
When in its depths I look,

I find there floating, clear and pale,
My face! Its waters hold
No other secret in their breast
Than wavelets manifold.

I heard a heart's ethereal throb;
It whispered tenderly:
'Dost thou desire a heart?' it said.
'Beloved, come to me!'

I wished to love the zephyr soft
That breathes o'er fields of bloom;
It woundeth none, - a gentle soul
Whose secret is perfume.

So sweet it is, it has the power
To nurse a myriad dreams;
To mournful spirits, like the scent
Of paradise it seems.

Then from a sheaf of glowing flames
To me a whisper stole:
It murmured low, 'Dost thou desire
To worship a pure soul?'

I wished to make the lyre alone
My heart's companion still,
To know it as a loving friend,
And guide its chords at will.

But she drew near me, and I heard
A whisper soft and low:
'Thy lyre is a cold heart,' she said,
'Thy love is only woe.'

My spirit recognised her then;
She beauty was, and fire,
Pure as the stream, kind as the breeze,
And faithful as the lyre.

My soul, that from the path had erred,
Spread wide its wings to soar,
And bade the life of solitude
Farewell forevermore.

A galaxy of glances bright,
A sweet bouquet of smiles,
A crucible of melting words
Bewitched me with their wiles!