Into the darkness of a room, Is by (the very source of gloom) O, when will come the morrow? The night and the wonders here ? Whose forms we can't discover For the tears that drip all over ! Huge moons-see! wax and wane Again-again-again Every moment of the night Forever changing places! How they put out the starlight With the breath from their pale faces ! Lo! one is coming down With its centre on the crown Of a mountain's eminence ! Down-still down-and down- For that wide circumference Drowsily over halls— Over ruined walls Over waterfalls, (Silent waterfalls!) O'er the strange words-o'er the seaAlas! over the sea! IRENE. 'Tis now (so sings the soaring moon) Midnight in the sweet month of June, When winged visions love to lie Lazily upon beauty's eye, Or worse-upon her brow to dance In panoply of old romance, Till thoughts and locks are left, alas! A ne'er-to-be untangled mass. An influence, dewy, drowsy, dim, Looking like Lethe, see! the lake And would not for the world awake; And million bright pines to and fro, Are rocking lullabies as they go, To the lone oak that reels with bliss, All beauty sleeps and lo! where lies : With casement open to the skies, Irene, with her destinies ! Thus burns the moon within her ear, "O lady sweet! how camest thou here? Strange are thine eyelids-strange thy dress! And strange thy glorious length of tress! Sure thou art come o'er far-off seas, A wonder to our desert-trees! Some gentle wind hath thought it right To open thy window to the night, And wanton airs from the tree-top, Laughingly thro' the lattice drop, Like a banner o'er thy dreaming eye! For the holy Jesus' sake! For strangely-fearfully in this hall The lady sleeps: the dead all sleep- As long as tears on Memory's eye : To bathe in the pure element, And there, from the untrodden grass, Wreathing for its transparent brow |