On what sweet banks were thy pure fancies fed,
  What world of smiling light has been thy home;
In what fair land of rainbows wert thou bred,
  From what green land of cuckoos art thou come?

By all that shining wonder in thine eyes,
  Baffled and vexed I stand before thy smile;
Thy thoughts, like angels, guard thee from surprise,
  We see them not, yet feel them all the while.

That smile which, like the sun on everything,
  Now falls on me with no increased delight,
Must either go behind a cloud and bring
  Death to my hopes or give my love more light.