Down Where The Lonely Poplars Grow 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 you whisper's soft caress One hour, then come what might! Had you but granted me a glance That was not filles with scorn, Out of its shining radiance A new star had been born. You would have lived through lives untold Beyond the ends of time; O deity with arms so cold, O marble form sublime! An idol of some pagan lore As now no more is seen, Come down to us from times yore, From times that long have been. My worship was of ages gone, Sad eyes by faith beguiled, Each generation handed on From father unto child. But now I very little care To walk along that lane, Nor heed the face I found so fair Looks out for me in vain; For you are like them all today In bearing and in guise, And I but look on your display With cold and lifeless eyes. You should have known to value right With wondering intent, And lit your candela at night To Love that God had sent.