Chapter XXXIX

And now what hope have I to touch thine heart,
As the new year brings joy to every land?
What chance is there that thou shouldst understand
That which defies my power to impart
To thy dear self its meaning, though I start
To win anew with love thy treasured hand?
Like some uncertain pebble on the sand,
I find me now, tossed by the waves that part.
Oh! canst thou not, sweet pearl upon the ocean
Of love’s resistless power to possess
All men in its divine and fair embrace,
Perceive my unmistakable devotion
To thy sweet self, and give but one caress
That might so easily thy presence grace?