MY LADY DREAMS

The linnet in the rocky dells,
The moorlark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells,
That hide my lady fair:

The wild deer browse above her breast;
The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caressed,
Have left her solitude!

I ween that when the grave's dark wall
Did first her form retain,
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
The light of joy again.

They thought the tide of grief
Would flow unchecked through all the future years;
But where is all their anguish now
And where are all their tears?

Well, let them fight for honour's breath,
Or pleasure's shade pursue;
The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.

And if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow's source were dry
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh.

Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound,
And murmur summer streams
There is no need of other sound
To soothe my lady's dreams.

Hämta film!
The Beauty of Touch
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