Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/279

Rh

I left, with him, my native shore, Not as a bride who passes o'er Her father's threshold with his blessing, With flowers strewn and friends caressing, Kind words, and purest hopes to cheer The bashfulness of maiden fear; But I—I fled as culprits fly, By night, watched only by one eye Whose look was all the world to me, And it met mine so tenderly, I thought not of the days to come, I thought not of my own sweet home, Nor of mine aged father's sorrow,— Wild love takes no thought for to-morrow. I left my home, and I was left A stranger in his land, bereft