Oft have I stood within the carven door Of some cathedral at the close of the day, And seen its softened splendors fade away From lucent pane and tessellated floor, As if a parting guest who comes no more,...
Not all the pageant of the setting sun Should yield the tired eyes of man delight, No sweet beguiling power had stars at night To soothe his fainting heart when day is done, Nor any secret voice of benison...
The dew was full of sun that morn (Oh I heard the doves in the ladyricks coop!) As he crossed the meadows beyond the corn, Watching his falcon in the blue. How could he hear my song so far,...