Long neglect has worn away Half the sweet enchanting smile; Time has turned the bloom to gray; Mold and damp the face defile. But that lock of silky hair,
The sun has set, and the long gras… Waves dreamily in the evening wind… And the wild bird has flown from t… In some warm nook a couch to find. In all the lonely landscape round
I see around me tombstones grey Stretching their shadows far away. Beneath the turf my footsteps trea… Lie low and lone the silent dead— Beneath the turf– beneath the moul…
Loud without the wind was roaring Through th’ autumnal sky; Drenching wet, the cold rain pouri… Spoke of winter nigh. All too like that dreary eve,
O, thy bright eyes must answer now… When Reason, with a scornful brow… Is mocking at my overthrow! O, thy sweet tongue must plead for… And tell why I have chosen thee!
Come, the wind may never again Blow as now it blows for us; And the stars may never again shin… Long before October returns, Seas of blood will have parted us;
She dried her tears and they did s… To see her cheeks’ returning glow How little dreaming all the while That full heart throbbed to overfl… With that sweet look and lively to…
That wind I used to hear it swell… With joy divinely deep You might have seen my hot tears w… But rapture made me weep I used to love on winter nights
In summer’s mellow midnight, A cloudless moon shone through Our open parlour window, And rose-trees wet with dew. I sat in silent musing;
I’ll not weep that thou art going… There’s nothing lovely here; And doubly will the dark world gri… While thy heart suffers there. I’ll not weep, because the summer’…
The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me, And I cannot, cannot go. The giant trees are bending
Mild the mist upon the hill Telling not of storms tomorrow; No, the day has wept its fill, Spent its store of silent sorrow. O, I’m gone back to the days of y…
Ah! why, because the dazzling sun Restored our Earth to joy, Have you departed, every one, And left a desert sky? All through the night, your glorio…
It was night and on the mountains Fathoms deep the snow drifts lay; Streams and waterfalls and fountai… Down the darkness stole away. Long ago the hopeless peasant
“O day! he cannot die When thou so fair art shining! O Sun, in such a glorious sky, So tranquilly declining; He cannot leave thee now,