HE is coming! he is coming! in my throbbing breast I feel it;
There is music in my blood, and it whispers all day long,
That my love unknown comes toward me! Ah, my heart, he need not steal it,'
For I cannot hide the secret that it murmurs in its song!

O the sweet bursting flowers! how they open, never blushing,
Laying bare their fragrant bosoms to the kisses of the sun!
And the birds-I thought 'twas poets only read their tender gushing,
But I hear their pleading stories, and I know them every one.

'He is coming!' says my heart; I may raise my eyes and greet him;
I may meet him any moment-shall I know him when I see?
And my heart laughs back the answer-I can tell him when I meet him,
For our eyes will kiss and mingle ere he speaks a word to me.

O, I'm longing for his coming-in the dark my arms outreaching;
To hasten you, my love, see, I lay my bosom bare!
Ah, the night-wind! I shudder, and my hands are raised beseeching-
It wailed so light a death-sigh that passed me in the air!