Thou who hast follow'd far with eyes of love The shy and virgin sights of Spring to-day, Sad soul, what dost thou in this happy grove? Hast thou no pipe to touch, no strain to play,...
Over thy head, in joyful wanderings Through heaven's wide spaces, free, Birds fly with music in their wings; And from the blue, rough sea The fishes flash and leap; There is a life of loveliest things...
Dearest, that sit'st in dreams, Through the window look, this way. How changed and desolate seems The world, Ida, to-day! Heavy and low the sky is glooming: Winter is coming! ...