So wake not! and I’ll hush thee with a strain
Of my wild fancy, till thou dream of me,
And I be loved as I have lovéd thee:—”
SONG.
’Tis light to love thee living, girl, when hope is full and fair
In the springtide of thy beauty, when there is no sorrow there—
No sorrow on thy brow, and no shadow on thy heart!
When, like a floating sea-bird, bright and beautiful thou art!
’Tis light to love thee living, girl—to see thee ever so,
With health, that, like a crimson flower, lies blushing in the snow;