And through the mead the river creeps
And still sweet Nellie gently sleeps.
And o'er her grave the willow weeps,
And still my darling sleeps and sleeps.
And still sweet Nellie gently sleeps.
And o'er her grave the willow weeps,
And still my darling sleeps and sleeps.
TO MY LADY SLEEPING
How fair, how tranquil is my lady's pose—
Upon her pillow, wrapped in peaceful dreams,
Hardly a thing of earth or life she seems,
Her lips half parted like a budding rose;
And o'er her couch one golden ringlet flows,
The rest across her pillow wildly streams,
And in the silver moonlight glints and gleams
Like evening sunlight on eternal snows;
And with each breath that softly comes and goes
I see the hand upon her virgin breast
Rise quickly up then slowly sink to rest—
And now she smiles in innocent repose—
O! tell me stars, or wind that softly blows,
Is it for me that smile like heaven glows?
Upon her pillow, wrapped in peaceful dreams,
Hardly a thing of earth or life she seems,
Her lips half parted like a budding rose;
And o'er her couch one golden ringlet flows,
The rest across her pillow wildly streams,
And in the silver moonlight glints and gleams
Like evening sunlight on eternal snows;
And with each breath that softly comes and goes
I see the hand upon her virgin breast
Rise quickly up then slowly sink to rest—
And now she smiles in innocent repose—
O! tell me stars, or wind that softly blows,
Is it for me that smile like heaven glows?
THERE IS BEAUTY
There is beauty without stature,
In the perfect Grecian mold,
There is beauty without feature
In the classic dies of old;
In the perfect Grecian mold,
There is beauty without feature
In the classic dies of old;
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