My love, my love, if you could come once more From your high place, I would not question you for heavenly lore, But, silent, take the comfort of your face.
Must I, who walk alone, Come on it still, This Puck of plants The wise would do away with, The sunshine slants To play with, Our wee, gold-dusty flower, the yellow clover,...
The first faint dawn was flushing up the skies When, dreamland still bewildering mine eyes, I looked out to the oak that, winter-long, a winter wild with war and woe and wrong...