ROMANCE by THEOPHILE GAUTIER

UNTO the land where fight and die
The hosts, I saw my love depart;
And seems it to my broken heart
That none is left on earth but I;
And through my lips his parting kiss
Drew out my very soul away.
What keeps him so long time as this?
The sun sinks with another day,
And I, all lonely in my tower,
Wait his return from hour to hour.

The pigeons, cooing soft and low,
'Murmur upon the roof together;
Beneath the willows, through the heather,
The waters with sad music flow
Like Lily, which full showers steep,
Its tears my heart no more can hold;
E'en hope I can no longer keep.
The white moon rises wan and cold,
And I, all lonely in my tower,
Wait his return from hour to hour.

Who mounts the stairs with eager stamp?
Can it be he, my love, my bliss?
It is not he; it only is
My little page, who brings my lamp.
Fly, winds of evening; bid him know
I think, I dream by day, by night,
Of him alone, my joy, my woe!
The morn is come with chilling light,
And I, all lonely in my tower,
Wait his return from hour to hour.

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