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Such lovely ministers to meet
With mountain winds, and babbling springs,
Thou didst hold commune, and rejoice
And thou hast sought in starry eyes
Beams that were never meant for thine, Another's wealth:- tame sacrifice
To a fond faith! still dost thou pine? Still dost thou hope that greeting hands, Voice, looks, or lips, may answer thy demands?
Ah! wherefore didst thou build thine hope
Of love, or moving thoughts to thee?
Could steal the power to wind thee in their wiles.
Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled
Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted;
The glory of the moon is dead;
Night's ghosts and dreams have now de
Thine own soul still is true to thee,
But changed to a foul fiend through misery.
This fiend, whose ghastly presence ever
HE cold earth slept below,
Above the cold sky shone; And all around, with a chilling sound,
The breath of night like death did flow
The wintry hedge was black,
The green grass was not seen,
The birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, Whose roots, beside the pathway track, Had bound their folds o'er many a crack, Which the frost had made between.
Thine eyes glowed in the glare
Gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, And it yellowed the strings of thy raven.
That shook in the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, beloved-
Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie