O FAR-OFF darling in the South,
Where grapes are loading down the vine,
And songs are in the throstle's mouth,
While love's complaints are here in mine,
Turn from the blue Tyrrhenian Sea!
Come back to me! Come back to me!

Here all the Northern skies are cold,
And in their wintriness they say
(With warnings by the winds foretold)
That love may grow as cold as they!
How ill the omen seems to be!
Come back to me! Come back to me!

Come back, and bring thy wandering heart—
Ere yet it be too far estranged!

There breathed a soul of pearl and fear,
Who in his feign hath but weeping,
E'er he wrests from ill but cheer
That sorrows from love's beating.

The tale of an orb's purple
Was but the slumberer dim
From the space that let life joy therein,
From the winds of beastly trace.

The banner shade was the crayon oil
By the painted dives of monotonous swamps,
As if heat glowed the colors into beaten foil
Which stripes the path of lamps.

He never lived nor ate,
Nor breathed the wind;
And sat not with love
That coiled his fate.

Though love has grown cold
The woods are bright with flowers,
Why not as of old
Go to the wildwood bowers
And dream of—bygone hours.

Like mist on the lees,
Fall gently, oh rain of Spring
On the orange trees
That to Ume's casement cling—
Perchance, she'll hear the love-bird sing.

Oh, were the white waves,
Far on the glimmering sea
That the moonshine laves,
Dream flowers drifting to me—
I would cull them, love, for thee.

One calm and cloudless winter night,
Under a moonless sky,
Whence I had seen the gracious light
Of sunset fade and die,

I stood alone a little space,
Where tree nor building bars
Its outlook, in a desert place,
The best to see the stars.

No sound was in the frosty air,
No light below the skies;
I looked above, and unaware
Looked in Medusa's eyes:—

The eyes that neither laugh nor weep,
That neither hope nor fear,
That neither watch nor dream nor sleep,
Nor sympathize nor sneer;

The eyes that neither spurn nor choose,

Thee will I love, my God and King
Thee will I sing,
My strength and tower:
For evermore thee will I trust,
O God most just
Of truth and power;
Who all things hast
In order placed,
Yea, for thy pleasure hast created;
And on thy throne
Unseen, unknown,
Reignest alone
In glory seated.

Set in my heart thy love I find;
My wandering mind
To thee thou leadest:
My trembling hope, my strong desire
With heavenly fire
Thou kindly feedest.
Lo, all things fair
Thy path prepare.
Thy beauty to my spirit calleth,
Thine to remain

Hurried seal of soft affection,
Tenderest pledge of future bliss,
Dearest tie of soft connection,
Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.

Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Passions' birth, and infant's play,
Dovelike fondness, chaste concession,
Brightest dawn of happiest day.

Knight of my maiden love,
Stalwart and manly—
Ever my yearning heart searcheth for thee;
Searcheth the busy crowd;
Hearken its babble loud;
Yearning in secret, thy dear face to see.

Knight of my maiden love,
Stalwart and manly—
Tender thy words were, and tender thy mien;
Deep in my loving heart,
Thee, hath I set apart—
Prince of my fancy, and lord of my dream.

Knight of my maiden love,
Stalwart and manly—
Calm and composed in thy presence I seem;
This is my sex decree—
Maidens must modest be;

God made my lady lovely to behold;—
Above the painter's dream he set her face,
And wrought her body in divinest grace;
He touched the brown hair with a sense of gold,
And in the perfect form He did enfold
What was alone as perfect, the sweet heart;
Knowledge most rare to her He did impart,
And filled with love and worship all her days.
And then God thought Him how it would be well
To give her music, and to Love He said,
“Bring thou some minstrel now that he may tell
How fair and sweet a thing My hands have made.”