All That Thou Art, I Thrillingly And Sensibly Do Feel; For My Eye Doth See, And My Ear Doth Hear, And My Heart Is Not Of Steel; I Meet Thee In The Festal Hall - I Turn Thee In The Dance - And I Wait, As Would A Worshipper, The Giving Of Thy Glance. Thy Beauty Is As Undenied As The Beauty Of A Star; And Thy Heart Beats Just As Equally, Whate'Er Thy Praises Are; And So Long Without A Parallel Thy Loveliness Hath Shone, That, Follow'D Like The Tided Moon, Thou Mov'St As Calmly On. Thy Worth I, For Myself, Have Seen - I Know That Thou Art Leal; Leal To A Woman'S Gentleness, And Thine Own SpirIt's Weal; Thy Thoughts Are Deeper Than A Dream, And Holier Than Gay; And Thy Mind Is A Harp Of Gentle Strings, Where Angel Fingers Play. I Know All This - I Feel All This - And My Heart Believes It True; And My Fancy Hath Often Borne Me On, As A Lover'S Fancies Do; And I Have A Heart, That Is Strong And Deep, And Would Love With Its Human All, And It Waits For A Fetter That's Sweet To Wear, And Would Bound To A Silken Thrall. But It Loves Not Thee. - It Would Sooner Bind Its Thoughts To The Open Sky; It Would Worship As Soon A Familiar Star, That Is Bright To Every Eye. 'Twere To Love The Wind That Is Sweet To All - The Wave Of The Beautiful Sea - 'Twere To Hope For All The Light In Heaven, To Hope For The Love Of Thee. But Wert Thou Lowly - Yet Leal As Now; Rich But In Thine Own Mind; Humble - In All But The Queenly Brow; And To Thine Own Glory Blind - Were The World To Prove But A Faithless Thing, And Worshippers Leave Thy Shrine - My Love Were, Then, But A Gift For Thee, And My Strong Deep Heart Were Thine.