The willis are out to-night,
In the ghostly pale moonlight,
With robes and faces white.

Swiftly they circle round,
And make not any sound,
Nor footprint on the ground.

The forest is asleep;
All things that fly or creep
A death-...

I have found violets. April hath come on,

And the cool winds feel softer, and the rain

Falls in the beaded drops of summer-time.

You may hear birds at morning, and at eve

The tame dove lingers till the twilight falls,
...

Poet:

        In life's freshness, and its fulness,---

           In thy womanhood's young bloom,

        While thy brow was all unclouded

           With a darkening ray of gloom,---

        The Angel Death hath said to thee,
...

Poet: