The warrior for the True, the Right

Softly, O midnight hours! Move softly o'er the bowers Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair: For ye have power, men say, Our hearts in sleep to sway And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare.

Look up! the proof is round you written large; Your Faith is in the balance wanting found; Your shipless seas confess it; bridgeless streams; Your wasted wealth of ore, and moor, and bay. Beneath the Upas shade of Faith depraved All things …

When I was young, I said to Sorrow, "Come and I will play with thee!" He is near me now all day, And at night returns to say, "I will come again to-morrow— I will come and stay with thee."

Song like a rose should be; Each rhyme a petal sweet; For fragrance, melody, That when her lips repeat The words, her heart may know What secret makes them so:—

And also there’s a little star So white a virgin’s it must be:— Perhaps the lamp my love in heaven Hangs out to light the way for me.

O fairest of the feather’d train! For whom I sing, for whom I burn, Attend with pity to my strain, And grant my love a kind return.