ONE face alone, one face alone, 
 These eyes require; 
But, when that long?d-for sight is shown, 
 What fatal fire 
Shoots through my veins a keen and liquid flame,
That melts each fibre of my wasting frame! 
 
One voice alone, one voice alone, 
 I pine to hear; 
But, when its meek mellifluous tone 
 Usurps mine ear,
Those slavish chains about my soul are wound, 
Which ne?er, till death itself, can be unbound. 
 
One gentle hand, one gentle hand, 
 I fain would hold; 
But, when it seems at my command, 
 My own grows cold; 
Then low to earth I bend in sickly swoon, 
Like lilies drooping ?mid the blaze of noon.