I heard a gentle maiden, in the spring,

Set her sweet sighs to music, and thus sing:

“Fly through the world, and I will follow thee,

Only for looks that may turn back on me;

“Only for roses that your chance may throw —

Though withered — Twill wear them on my brow,

To be a thoughtful fragrance to my brain —

Warm’d with such love, that they will bloom again.”

“Thy love before thee, I must tread behind,

Kissing thy foot-prints, though to me unkind;

But tr............