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LOVE'S IDOL.

There's not a fiber in my trembling frame,
That does not vibrate when thy step draws near;
There's not a pulse that throbs not when I hear
Thy voice, thy breathing, nay, thy very name!
When thou art with me, every sense seems dull
And all I am, or know, or feel, is thee!

When thou art gone, there creeps into my heart
A cold and bitter consciousness of pain;
The light, the warmth of life, with thee depart,
And I sit dreaming o'er and o'er again,
Thy greeting clasp, thy parting look and tone;
And suddenly I wake -- and am alone.

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