L'INCONNUE

Let thy hand set

        My hair back. Look

                Into mine eyes.

There runs a brook

        Right through the heat

                Of my hushed cries.

Let thy hand rest

        Upon my brow.

                Let thine eyes smile

Into the unrest

        Of mine eyes now

                Thine for a while.

Ay, forget not

        To let that touch

                Be felt by me,

Light like a thought

        Of it, and such

                As hope can be.

Let thy hand sweep

        Over my hair

                One little while.

I seem asleep

        But cannot bear

                To feel me smile.

All things have failed.

        All hopes are dead.

                All joys are brief.

                        Ay, let thy hand,

As if it quailed

        From feeling sad,

                Give me relief!

                        No matter if

                                None understand.

Ay, on my brow

        Let thy hand be.

What life is now

        Is worth so little

        That pain seems brittle

And thought a slough.

Put my hair back

        From my brow's pain.

There runs a track

        Of lightness through

My heavy brain.

What does this mean?

        These are words set

        To an idle tune.

What I regret

        Hath never been.

                Lest my rest fret,

                        True rest, come soon!