Upon thy lips—thy swelling breast of snow,
Thy bright eyes, and thy budding soul—I lay
My love's unshaken—its eternal vow—
Its oath—its pledge—yes! Mina! hear me say:
“Time overrules the world—makes all its prey—
Time calls us where all time is buried low:
Yet I am thine for aye—record it so—
Thou glorious heaven—thou star-girt milky way!”
I bend me from the clouds—my name is fate;
On thee I look in pity—for tho' peace
Is in thy vow—yet war must be thy doom;
And I shall chase thee in thy restlessness—
Whither and when—I say not—soon or late—
Perchance a better—brighter day may come.