Many things thou hast given me, dear heart;
But one thing thou hast taken: that high dream
Of heaven as of a country that should seem
Beyond all glory that divinest art
Has pictured:—with this I have had to part
Since knowing thee;—how long, love, will the...

On softest pillows my dim eyes unclose;
No pain,—delicious weariness instead;
Sweet silence broods around the quiet bed,
And round me breathes the fragrance of the rose.
The moonlight leans against the pane, and shows
The little leaves outside in watchful...