Where art thou at this moment, love?—what doing,
What saying, thinking?—Dost thou think of me?
Hast thou no care for my hard agony,
Though care for thee still houndeth me, renewing.

My pain, and all my heart with love subduing?—
Absent, I hear thee speak, and speak to thee.
Thy form so present in my mind I see,
No thought can harbor there of other wooing.

I hold thine eyes, thy beauty, and thy grace
Engraven on my heart—and every place
Where e'er I saw thee dance, laugh, speak, or move.

I hold thee mine, though I am not mine own;
I live and breathe in thee, in thee alone,
Light of mine eyes, blood of my veins, my love.