NO! Though 't were possible that bitter pain By this dead heart could once again be known: No! Though a flower of hope could once again Upon the desert of my life be grown; Though thy sweet innocence without a stain Could e'en for me thy soul to pity move-- Dear child, thy guileless charity were vain; I could not, and I would not, dare to love. But still that fated hour must on thee fall, When the whole world shall seem as nothingness, My true, my pure affection then recall; You'll find alike in joy and in distress My hand to thine in ready succour shown, And my sad heart to listen to thine own. |