An old, short story is this!
A glance, a trembling, a sigh,
A gaze in the eyes, a kiss—
Why will it not go by!

PICTURE SONGS.

A pale green sky is gleaming;
The steely stars are few;
The moorland pond is steaming
A mist of gray and blue.

Along the pathway lonely
My horse is walking slow;
Three living creatures only,
He, I, and a home-bound crow!

The moon is hardly shaping
Her circle in the fog;
A dumb stream is escaping
Its prison in the bog.

But in my heart are ringing
Tones of a lofty song;
A voice that I know, is singing,
And my heart all night must long.

Over a shining land—
Once such a land I knew—
Over its sea, by a soft wind fanned,
The sky is all white and blue.

The waves are kissing the shores,
Murmuring love and for ever;
A boat gleams green, and its timeful oars
Flash out of the level river.