Glows with fresh hours for hope to glorify;
Though pale she lay when in the winter grove
Her funeral flowers were snowflakes shed on her
And the red wings of frost-fire rent the sky.”
We follow the soul of the lover—
... “where wan water trembles in the grove,
And the wan moon is all the light thereof,”
... “o’er the sea of love’s tumultuous trance,”
“Upon the devious coverts of dismay”
across “death’s haggard hills”; among