How beautiful it is to wake at night, When over all there reigns the ultimate spell Of complete silence, darkness absolute, To feel the world, tilted on axle-tree, In slow gyration, with no sensible sound,...
As I walk the misty hill All is languid, fogged, and still; Not a note of any bird Nor any motion's hint is heard, Save from soaking thickets round Trickle or water's rushing sound,...
O Nightingale my heart How sad thou art! How heavy is thy wing, Desperately whirr'd that thy throat may fling Song to the tingling silences remote! Thine eye whose ruddy spark Burned fiery of late,...
Come, ye sorrowful, and steep Your tired brows in a nectarous sleep: For our kisses lightlier run Than the traceries of the sun By the lolling water cast...