Beyond the hills the daylight dimly sheds
Some drowsy glances on the restful night;
Thus dreamily the day the darkness weds
And day is darkened, dark receiving sight.
The cuckoo calling in a far-off field
Echoes itself to please another spring,
The cry recalling how the past could yield
Sweet notes and vanish on a swift-flown wing
I love this calmness of the midnight May,
I love the music of the cuckoo's throat,
I love the beauty of that stilly way—
The heavens above—where stars effulgent float:
But in this lovely hour I am alone
When I could wish my thoughts another's own.