85 
Alas! few know the wretchedness which clings 
Around a heart in which affection’s springs 
Are flowing deep, unanswered, all unsought, 
And bearing back the treasures they have brought 
From hidden sources — holy, high, unseen, 
Unthought of, by the common throng — who 
gaze 
Upon the lone one’s lofty brow serene, 
O’er which no love-requited flush ere plays. 
Oh, gentle Girl! Dost envy still these gifts ? 
Its pitying gaze to mine thy mild eye lifts; 
What says the spirit in my look that lies? 
Beloved of Earth and Heaven! be satisfied — be 
wise. 
