I love thee, Maude, as I ne'er loved before,
And as I feel I cannot love again;
And though that love has cost me much of pain,
Of agony intense, I would live o'er
Most willingly, each bitter hour I've known
Since first we met, to claim thee as my own.
But mine thou will not be: thy wayward heart
On one by thee deemed worthier is set,
And I must bear the keen and deathless smart,
Of passion unrequited, or forget
That which is of my very life a part.
To cherish it may lead to madness, yet
I will brood over it: for oh,
The joy its memory brings, surpasses far the woe.



'I love thee, Maude, as I ne'er loved before,
And as I feel I cannot love again;'
Thus wrote I many moons ago, and more
Devotedly I love thee now, than when
Those lines were written. But avails it aught?
Have I return? Hold I the slightest part
Within the boundless realm of thy confiding heart?
Or dost thou ever give to me one thought?
I dare believe so:-nor will soon resign
The dream I've cherished long, that some day thou'lt be mine.