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William Cullen Bryant - Song From The Spanish Of Iglesias
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Alexis calls me cruel;
  The rifted crags that hold
The gathered ice of winter,
  He says, are not more cold.

When even the very blossoms
  Around the fountain`s brim,
And forest walks, can witness
  The love I bear to him.

I would that I could utter
  My feelings without shame;
And tell him how I love him,
  Nor wrong my virgin fame.

Alas! to seize the moment
  When heart inclines to heart,
And press a suit with passion,
  Is not a woman`s part.

If man comes not to gather
  The roses where they stand,
They fade among their foliage;
  They cannot seek his hand.
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