A sworded man whose trade is blood,
       &nbspIn grief, in anger, and in fear,
Thro' jungle, swamp, and torrent flood,
       &nbspI seek the wealth you hold so dear!

The dazzling charm of outward form,
       &nbspThe power of gold, the pride of birth,
Have taken Woman's heart by storm—
       &nbspUsurp'd the place of inward worth.

Is not true Love of higher price
       &nbspThan outward Form, though fair to see,
Wealth's glittering fairy-dome of ice,
       &nbspOr echo of proud ancestry?—

O! Asra, Asra! couldst thou see
       &nbspInto the bottom of my heart,
There's such a mine of Love for thee,
       &nbspAs almost might supply desert!

(This separation is, alas!
       &nbspToo great a punishment to bear;
O! take my life, or let me pass
       &nbspThat life, that happy life, with her!)

The perils, erst with steadfast eye
       &nbspEncounter'd, now I shrink to see—
Oh! I have heart enough to die—
       &nbspNot half enough to part from Thee!