Or, do we grieve that we are weak, Lack courage to be free, And spurn the liberty we seek For slavery?
Doubts lie--like pebbles on this strand-- In our sad souls, my mate. Before us lies the promised land, Behind us--fate.
Then, let us here together bide, With faces toward the sea, And hope that some fair morning’s tide Take you and me.
The light of Hebe’s eyes Gives colour to the skies, It makes the azure dome A radiant place, Where love might find a home, Sweet as her face.
Ethereal are the hues Where birds a-wing would lose Themselves in heavenly bliss; As I would do-- If I might soar to kiss Her eyes so blue!
Sweet face, I see thee shine Out of the bosom of the east at morn; Thy tenderness, divine, Lies mirrored in the pearly dew at dawn.
The flower that smiles at me, Holds in its cup the picture of your face; In rivulets I see The flowing charm of your abiding grace.
The sapling tells me how Your body’s symmetry grows strong and straight; The winds which whisper now, Tell me your love and trust will not abate.
The steadfast stars above Reflect the fervour of your constant mind, Your deep unwav’ring love-- The rarest jewel eager man can find!
In nature’s soul thou art-- I see thee, hear thee, feel thee, ever near; Dear love, thou art the heart Of those eternal joys our souls revere.
I saw a bloom, So beautiful, My sad heart lost its gloom, And cares that dull The senses, soon passed far away-- The bloom brought joy into the day.
I saw her face When she bent down And kissed the bloom. Then grace Was Hebe’s crown Of loveliness, and there! upon Her brow the light of heaven shone!
The soft night, like a silent child Before some wondrous thing, Withholds its breath, as if beguiled By songs the fairies sing.
It seems to stand and listen, still As statue in a grove-- Perhaps it hears a fairy trill A strain Titania wove.
Ah, no, the night hears not her song, For it would then be glad; And I have listened here so long, I know the night is sad.
Now if it be a song that keep The hour when night should part, Then night must hear from my soul’s deep, The music of my heart.
My love is coming through green fields to me-- Why does she tarry so? She knows I wait on cliffs above the sea, And dare not to her go; For I am prisoned to the spot where love Has chained my feet, and must not call or move.