Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying!

And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying.

The Princess. Part iii. Line 360.

There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.

The Princess. Part iv. Line 1.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.

Tears from the depth of some divine despair

Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,

In looking on the happy autumn-fields,

And thinking of the days that are no more.