At the early break of day, When the river mists grow pink. And the moon begins to sink, Down along the southern way ; When the gold mimosa tree

Oh! that the night were passed, an… Made lovely by the joy of spring, Would flood these sombre clouds wi… Oh! that some hopeful bird would s… And in his tiny feathered throat

I weave my verses of smiles and te… Gathered and shed for you, I bind them up in the hopes of yea… Dear, will you read them through? I write my ballads of joy and pain…

High above a waveless sea, On the hills of long ago. There you lived awhile with me. And we loved—I know. For your hair I made a crown,

This is the Sabbath day, the day… That breathes so gently in this qu… With such insistent peace that for… The silver olives on the mountain’… Forget to whisper, folded in the g…

Time hangs suspended 'mid the perf… With limpid wings, o’er which the… Gleams like a tear, within the ten… Desirous eyes of love-lorn Destin… The earth is dumb, the scents of m…

Sweet are the silent places of the… Green heart of woods through which… Long sloping meadows sown with sil… Old gardens thick with scents of d… Pale dome of morning, ere the firs…

Can nothing last? No deep, intense emotion? Have all things passed, Can nothing last? ‘Yes,’ sighs the wind,

Roses, I hate you! since you stil… Contentedly, where living love is… Can fling wan fragrance thro’ this… Lift languid petals shimmering 'mi… Where love is not.

When I the hills of Malvern see, There comes a sadness over me. The reason why, I cannot tell, Perhaps I love those hills too we… But this I know, when I behold

‘ Swift away, swift away,’ Sang the fickle swallow, Oh! the fickle swallow, Flying to the sun! ‘Come, my little brothers,

To-day I hate that bitter creed, Whereby the groaning soul is taugh… That God Almighty finds the need Of pain, ere true salvation 's wro… Dear God, who did create the tree…

Pale depth of sky, serene and wond… Within whose fold the lamps of ear… Shine far away and faintly luminou… Whose pensive tones merge from the… Into this colour indescribable ;

Why kinder to the breeze than unto… For oft you let him play within yo… Blow its soft curls about, and fin… The while he whispers low and tend… Into your ear; and yet how cold is…

Malvern I rose, ere yet the eager light Had wrested from the grasp of nigh… The trembling spirit of the world. The dusk of dawn with wistful eyes