Lo! Love leaned o'er thy cradle at thy birth,
And laid his lips on thine a moment's space,
Breathing faint laughter and desire of mirth
Into thy soul, and something not of earth
Now mocks me from thy face.

Fain would I raise an answer in those eyes
My hungry eyes look into, but there lurks
Low laughter in their depths, like radiant skies
That from their azure battlements despise