As steals the dew along the flower,
    So stole thy smile on me;
I cannot tell the day, nor hour
    I first loved thee!

But now in every scene and clime,
    In change of grief or glee,
I only measure from the time
    I first loved thee!

I only think,—when fast and fair
    My good ship cuts the sea,—
I leave the lovely island where
    I first loved thee!

The wide world has one only spot
    Where I would wish to be;
Where, all the rest of life forgot,
    I first loved thee!