I Heard A Gentle Maiden, In The Spring, Set Her Sweet Sighs To Music, And Thus Sing: "Fly Through The World, And I Will Follow Thee, Only For Looks That May Turn Back On Me; "Only For Roses That Your Chance May Throw - Though Withered - Twill Wear Them On My Brow, To Be A Thoughtful Fragrance To My Brain, - Warm'D With Such Love, That They Will Bloom Again." "Thy Love Before Thee, I Must Tread Behind, Kissing Thy Foot-Prints, Though To Me Unkind; But Trust Not All Her Fondness, Though It Seem, Lest Thy True Love Should Rest On A False Dream." "Her Face Is Smiling, And Her Voice Is Sweet; But Smiles Betray, And Music Sings Deceit; And Words Speak False; - Yet, If They Welcome Prove, I'll Be Their Echo, And Repeat Their Love." "Only If Waken'D To Sad Truth, At Last, The Bitterness To Come, And Sweetness Past; When Thou Art Vext, Then Turn Again, And See Thou Hast Loved Hope, But Memory Loved Thee."