The face that keeps the world so fair
Is thine, not his; he darkens soon.
Thy smile awakes the bird of dawn,
And day departs when thou art gone.
XXIV.
Oh! had I groves in some sweet star
That shines in Heaven the whole night through,—
A steed with wings,—a golden car,—
A something wild and strange and true:—
A fairy's wand,—an angel's crown,—