I SOUGHT my love in yonder flower,
Appearing like an angel star;
I sought her vainly, hour by hour,
Though she be fair as angels are.

I sought my love by yonder tree,
All musical with summer birds;
And sweet the songs, but not for me:
They could not give her sweeter words.

I sought her when the stars gleam'd west,
By stream that glides the veined round;
And I saw heaven in its breast,
And thought at last my love was found!

But, ah! each hope inconstant pass'd;
Nor flower, nor tree, nor streamlet's fall:
I found my love in night's sharp blast,
Whose false, false breath, hath ruin'd all.