I Do Not Love Thee

I do not love thee! no, I do not love thee! 
And yet when thou art absent I am sad;
And envy even the bright blue sky above thee, 
Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.

I do not love thee! — yet, I know not why, 
Whate'er thou dost seems still well done, to me —
And often in my solitude I sigh — 
That those I do love are not more like thee!

I do not love thee! — yet, when thou art gone, 
I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear)
Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone 
Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear.

I do not love thee! — yet thy speaking eyes,
With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue—
Between me and the midnight heaven arise, 
Oftener than any eyes I ever knew.

I know I do not love thee!— yet, alas! 
Others will scarcely trust my candid heart,
And oft I catch them smiling as they pass, 
Because they see me gazing where thou art.