Air—”How sweet the answer Echo makes.”


I love thine eyes of truth and light,
⁠I love thy smile of joy;
But not to me their beams were bright,
If, as I did, so others might
⁠Their light enjoy.


Canst thou be true to one alone,
⁠True beyond all reproach—
Bound like the pilgrim to one goal,
Thrilled like the magnet by one pole—
⁠Canst thou be such?


The head that pillows on my breast,
⁠And calls that home its own,
Must grant to every thought confess’d
As calm and true a place of rest
⁠To reign alone.


Ask I too much? Nay, think not so;
⁠Folly might guess,
He with scant love content to go
Meaneth, in turn, to bestow
⁠Even yet less.


But the true heart can claim in sooth
⁠But what it gave—
Candour for candour, truth for truth,
An ebbless tide to age from youth
⁠Even to the grave.