And waited,*till before me she dropped dead.
O golden bird in these dove-coloured skies
How long I sought, how long with wearied eyes I sought, O bird, the promise of thy flight 1
And now the morn has dawned, the morn has died. The day has come and gone ; and once more night
About my lone life settles, wild and wide.
HERE in the quiet eve My thankful eyes receive
The quiet light I see the trees stand fair Against the faded aira And star by star prepare
The perfect night.
And in my bosom, lo ! Content and quiet grow
Toward perfect peace. And now when day is done, Brief day of wind and sun, The pure stars, one by one,
Their troop increase.