Love Without Hope.

By James Nack

The meanest wretch that sullies earth
May on thy beauty gaze,
And all unconscious of its worth
May bask him in its blaze;
And those who care not for thy sight
Their hours may by thee spend,
Where 't would emparadise me quite
One moment to attend.

And those who to its charms are dead
Thy angel voice may hear,
Which never shall its music shed
For him who holds it dear!
And worthless fools the smile command
That me with heaven would bless,
And heartless wretches clasp the hand
That I would die to press!

But I who love thee -- I to whom
Thou art a saint below,
Ne'er to approach thee may presume
Nor scarce a glance bestow;
I gaze when thou art gliding past,
Unconscious of my eyes,
As gaze the lost at glimpses cast
From opening Paradise!

Why should I seek thy heart to gain?
Thy hand must be denied!
Why should they link affection's chain
Whom fortune's gulfs divide?
Still shall I watch thee glide before,
But bound my wishes there --
Such bliss is even this, that more
Seems more than life could bear