Balm up her eyes that stare at staring Night;
Seal down her lids with sweet, refreshing gleams,
Or visions, rather, of the happy life
We’ve planned together; and leave her not till the light
Of morn, with me, shall kiss her from her dreams.
TO A WILD-ROSE BOUQUET.
Wild roses down the lane
Sweet Laeda gave in June,
To glad me
And to sad me,