I knew him not, I sought him not,
He was my father's guest:
I gave him not one smile more kind
Than those I gave the rest:
He sat beside me at the board,
The choice was not my own,
But oh! I never heard a voice
With half so sweet a tone.
And at the dance again we met,
Again I was his choice,
Again I heard the gentle tone
Of that beguiling voice:
I sought him not — he led me forth
From all the fairest there,
And told me he had never seen
A face he thought so fair.
Ah! wherefore did he tell me this?
His praises made me vain:
And when he left me, how I longed
To hear that voice again!
I wondered why my old pursuits
Had lost their wonted charm,
And why the path was dull unless
I leaned upon his arm.
Alas! I might have guessed the cause —
For what could make me shun
My parents' cheerful dwelling-place
To wander all alone?
And what could make me braid my hair,
And study to improve
The form that he had deigned to praise —
What could it be but love?
Oh! little knew I of the world,
And less of man's career:
I thought each smile was kindly meant —
Each word of praise sincere:
His sweet voice spoke of endless love —
I listened and believed,
And little dreamt as oft before
That sweet voice had deceived.
He smiles upon another now —
And in the same sweet tone
He breathes to her those winning words
I once thought all my own:
Oh! why is she so beautiful?
I cannot blame his choice —
Nor can I doubt she will be won
By that beguiling voice.