« AnteriorContinuar »
“Do you not hear the Aziola cry?
Said Mary, as we sate
And I, who thought
Asked, “Who is Aziola ?" How elate
And Mary saw my soul,
’T is nothing but a little downy owl.”
Sad Aziola ! many an eventide
Thy music I had heard
And fields and marshes wide,
The soul ever stirred;
Oh, world ! oh, life ! oh, time!
Trembling at that where I had stood before ;
When will return the glory of your prime?
No more — 0, never more !
Out of the day and night
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,
SWIFTER far than summer's flight -
Art thou come and gone
I am left lone, alone.
The swallow summer comes again-
To fly with thee, false as thou.
Sunny leaves from any bough.
WHERE art thou, beloved To-morrow?
When young and old and strong and weak,
Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,
IF I walk in Autumn's even
While the dead leaves pass, If I look on Spring's soft heaven,
Something is not there which was. Winter's wondrous frost and snow, Summer's clouds, where are they now?
It were enough to feel, to see
After the slumber of the year
A BRIDAL SONG.
The golden gates of Sleep unbar
Where Strength and Beauty met together
In a sea of glassy weather.
Darkness, weep thy holiest dew,
On a pair so true.
Fairies, sprites, and angels keep her!
Holy stars, permit no wrong!