Come hither, child, who gifted thee With power to touch that string so well? How darest thou rouse up thoughts in me, Thoughts that I would, but cannot quell?
High waving heather 'neath stormy blasts bending, Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars, Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending, Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,...
How clear she shines! How quietly I lie beneath her guardian light; While heaven and earth are whispering me, "To morrow, wake, but dream to-night." Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love!...
How still, how happy! Those are words That once would scarce agree together; I loved the plashing of the surge, The changing heaven the breezy weather,
The sun has set, and the long grass now Waves dreamily in the evening wind; And the wild bird has flown from that old gray stone In some warm nook a couch to find.