I know, in the echoing rooms.

But nothing of these, my soul!
Nor castle, nor treasures, nor skies,
Nor the waves of the river that roll
With a cadence faint and sweet
In peace by its marble feet--
Nothing of these is the goal
For which my whole heart sighs.
'Tis the pearl gives worth to the shell--
The pearl I would die to gain;
For there does my lady dwell,
My love that I love so well--
The Queen whose gracious reign
Makes glad my Castle in Spain.

Her face so pure and fair
Sheds light in the shady places,
And the spell of her girlish graces
Holds charmed the happy air.
A breath of purity
Forever before her flies,
And ill things cease to be
In the glance of her honest eyes.
Around her pathway flutter,
Where her dear feet wander free
In youth's pure majesty,
The wings of the vague desires;
But the thought that love would utter
In reverence expires.