Awaking morning laughs from heaven On golden summer’s forests green; And what a gush of song is given To welcome in that light serene. A fresh wind waves the clustering…
If grief for grief can touch thee, If answering woe for woe, If any truth can melt thee Come to me now! I cannot be more lonely,
'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight, All soft and still and fair; The solemn hour of midnight Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere… But most where trees are sending
How beautiful the Earth is still To thee–how full of Happiness; How little fraught with real ill Or shadowy phantoms of distress; How Spring can bring thee glory y…
How beautiful the earth is still, To thee —how full of happiness! How little fraught with real ill, Or unreal phantoms of distress! How spring can bring thee glory, y…
The day is done, the winter sun Is setting in its sullen sky; And drear the course that has been… And dim the hearts that slowly die… No star will light my coming night…
In the earth—the earth—thou shalt… A grey stone standing over thee; Black mould beneath thee spread, And black mould to cover thee. ‘Well—there is rest there,
Oh, for the time when I shall sle… Without identity, And never care how rain may steep, Or snow may cover me! No promised heaven these wild desi…
All day I’ve toiled but not with… In learning’s golden mine And now at eventide again The moonbeams softly shine There is no snow upon the ground
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…
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!
On a sunny brae, alone I lay One summer afternoon; It was the marriage—time of May With her young lover, June. From her mother’s heart, seemed lo…
The moon is full this winter night… The stars are clear, though few; And every window glistens bright, With leaves of frozen dew. The sweet moon through your lattic…
For him who struck thy foreign str… I ween this heart has ceased to ca… Then why dost thou such feelings b… To my sad spirit—old Guitar? It is as if the warm sunlight
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…