SWEET yearnings unexpressed, That cannot rest, Are making music Full of drowsy pain And strange delight— O waken yet again The dreamy visions bright That, almost ere I saw them, took their flight. Joyously sings the thrush; Melodies rush Over my spirit. Fragrance stealeth up Into my heart, From many a snowy cup Of lilies white, where dart The mellow sunbeams and fresh breezes start. Long lines of opal cloud Rosily crowd In sunset glory. Over distant hills The twilight creeps, Till a soft quiet fills The valleys: turmoil sleeps, And peace divine the dewy landscape steeps! |