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Now should He come, whose coming for a while
Will make all Nature smile.
O bless my longing sight,
Dear one! whose presence bright
I hail with more delight,

Than birds the sunrise thrilling through each rapture-ringing cover,

Than trees the spring-time when they glow with gladder green all over.

The Sun is dim without thee, dearest,
Joy's self looks sad till thou appearest!—
page 156 See, he conies!—O dull, dull Lake!
How canst thou sleep so blue—nor wake—
Nor rise and wreathe with loving spray my own, my darling lover!