Down where the lonely poplars grow

How often have I erred;

My steps that all the neighbours know

You only have not heard.

Towards your window lighted through

How oft my gaze has flown;

A world entire my secret knew

You only have not known.

A word, a murmur of reply

How often did I pray!

What matters then if I should die,

Enough to live that day;

To know one hour of tenderness,

One hour of lover's night;

To hear your whisper's soft caress

One hour, then come what might!

Had you but granted me a glance

That was not filled with scorn,

Out of its shining radiance

A new star had been born.