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No! not for thee flames thus my love’s hot blast;
Thy brilliant beauty is not thine for me.
In thee I love a passion of the past;
My long-lost youth I live again in thee.
For when at times entranced I gaze upon thee,
Fixing on thy bright eyes a yearning glance,
To thee my heart is silent, while beyond thee
With her I hold mysterious utterance.
I speak with her, my friend of earlier blisses;
In your soft lines another’s form I trace.
On living lips I press long-silent kisses;
In your sweet eyes I see a vanished face.