'Twas past the midnight bell,
One hour, and only one,
I wandered with my love;
We wander'd, and alone
We wander'd thro' the grove—
And now—sweet maid! farewell,
God's blessing be thine own!

The heav'n has many a star,
In such a night as this is;
But all, when counted, are
Far fewer than thy kisses;
They are not—nor shall be,
While time is time—to me
So bright as thou, by far.

TheRE 's many a temple high,
That towers above the plain—
But oftener times have I
On thy soft bosom lain,
Than all those temples number'd:
I'll slumber where I've slumber'd,
Till earth is whelm'd again.