That I can lift at will each curvéd lid,
And my fair dream most highly realize.
The time will come, ’tis ushered by my sighs,
When I may shape the dark, but vainly bid
True light restore that form, those looks, that smile.”
“The garden trees are busy with the shower
That fell ere sunset: now methinks they talk,
Lowly and sweetly as befits the hour,
One to another down the grassy walk.
Hark the laburnum from his opening flower,