The dark-eyed nymphs and the fairy elves
In their robes of laughing smiles,
In the forests romp ’neath the leafy trees,
Through the narrow long-drawn aisles.
The bannered corn and the golden wheat
In the ties of bliss are bound;
The sweetest joys and highest hopes
On the shady farms are found.
The raptures reign in the holy scenes,
And the old grow young once more,
To roam the meadows and live again
In the happy years of yore.
Then haste, O, haste, to the country downs,
Where the valleys are sweet with joys,
And the soul grows young, and the heart is light,
And the bosom is like a boy’s!
Alone, alone, in the twilight gray,
In the shadows so dark and dim,
I watch through all of the weary hours,
And I wait with my heart for him;
For him who’ll come, when he comes at all,
As my king and warrior bold;
Whose form so tall is my fortress wall
And whose heart is a chunk of gold.
Again, again, do I dream the dreams,
All the dreams that my young heart knew,
And through my soul do the yearnings thrill
As of old they were wont to do;
I know in truth when his face I see,
I shall fall at his shining feet,
Where’er it be and whoever is he,
In the light of his glances sweet.
I wait in vain for the sounds that rise
From the tread of his horse’s hoof,
And still the mists hide his form away
And forever he stays aloof;
His shining face and his eyes so bright
In the shades of the distance hide,
And out of the night with the stars bedight
He hath never approached my side!
O, years, O, wonderful tide of years,
From the shadows of time set free
My king, my lover, my life, and bring
To my heart what is most of me!
Somewhere in pain do his yearnings grope
For the joys that my love would bring;
O, up the slope of his life-long hope,
Guide the feet of my royal king!
“SWEET FAIRIES FROM THE ISLES OF SONG.”
Sweet fairies from the isles of song,
Bewitching choirs from music land,
The pleasures of your wondrous band
Once wooed me from the ways of wrong;
Once won my heart with fond caress
To sacred vales of summer glees,
Till carols fraught with lullabies
Filled all my soul with blessedness!
My yearnings miss those gentle sprites,
Whose laughing lips and angel eyes
And voices ever winsome-wise,
Bedewed my dreams with new delights;
For in the sad hours of my pain
I hold them as I hold the dead,
And trust that in the vales they tread,
My hands shall clasp their hands again.