In thine eterne moonlight of rime and snow,
I am the fair lily of an hour, trembling
In the wild ecstasy: what is there so
Magic in this universal Earth as love unreflecting?
On the old mossy bridge, I behold thee, —
The rainbow bright o’er a willowy stream;
In the dome of night, I behold thee, —
The lamps and candlelight in the darkest dream.
O Life mine, the enamourèd islet green
’Mid the sunless deep! Whither art thou turned aside?
Shall we never pace with silent bliss ’tween
Banks of flowers in the blow of springtide?
  “Hark not to the matin bells,” Tomorrow saith,
  For each ’twill toll thee back to the hope’s death.”