Why weep in the darkness when flame and gold
Lie up in the west, and the hillsides glow
With the opaline light along them rolled,
From the sun that is sinking low?

The surge of the storm sweeping far away,
With its glitter of lightning linked and curled,
Now dashes its tossing and torrent spray
Beyond the cold edge of the world.

And the flowers that bent down before its blast,
Now open their eyes to the brilliant sun;
And from tears by the storm-clouds on them cast,
A glorious garment is spun.

At sunset I strolled out of the front gate
Not far from me, I spied you passing by
Such clouds of hair around your lovely face,
Its fragrance filled the very road you trod.

Love came at dawn when all the world was fair,
When crimson glories, bloom, and song were rife;
Love came at dawn when hope's wings fanned the air,
And murmured, “I am life.”

Love came at even when the day was done,
When heart and brain were tired, and slumber pressed;
Love came at eve, shut out the sinking sun,
And whispered, “I am rest.”

The upland farm, the cot upon the heath,
The fisher's hut, where sandy salt winds come—
The bleakest home is warm with beauty's breath,
To him that calls it home.

To him, no beauty like those lowing sheds,
Or gusty ash that creaks before the door,
Or glittering shells that gem the sandy beds,
Or foam that tufts the shore.

In man and Nature kindred spirits move,
And beauty is the union of the two:
The things we deem most lovely, and most love,
Are those she meets us through.

Long living in our homely places brings

That woman's heart is a priceless pearl,
We all of us know very well;
But every pearl in an oyster grows,
While the oyster is cased in a shell.

And many a man, with a cunning plan
To force it its treasure to yield,
Has won him a girl, while he lost the pearl
That lay in her bosom concealed.

Some with their fingers would open the shell,
As if that were the natural way;
Some with the harsh and brutal steel
Would torture their delicate prey;

Others are told that a wedge of gold
At length will be sure to prevail:

I dreamt (would God it were true!) that thou and I were friends together;
Let us tell then one another the sweet secrets of our hearts.
See, I have a book; it is filled with loving verses:
Of thee I seek but love, let us wander through the gardens.
Hand in hand together, we will walk, and sit, and rise;
Let us be happy together, let us join in merry converse.
Offer me the well filled goblet, from thy hands alone I take it;
Give me yet again thy lip's kiss, and again I press thee for it.
The Minstrel at a distance draws his bow across the strings;

Here she lies, whom Fortune dowered
With the virgin wealth of Youth,
Beauty, and the love of Truth,
Golden Honour, spotless Fame,
Twenty-times transmitted name!
Here she lies, deserted, dead!
Dead, alas, and on her head
The cold and crumbling earth is showered!
Not a stone is at her feet;
Not a bud, with Summer sweet,
Sleepeth on her winding-sheet.
Yet what do such poor wants avail?
The sad-eyed widow, Pity pale,
Weepeth when her story's told;
How her love was left for gold;
How, desert' and doomed to fade,
(Underneath the green grass laid,)

Only a blush! O'er the cheek it swept,
In a tint, but a shade more bright,
While over the forehead the soft glow crept,
Like Aurora's roseate light.

Only a blush! 'Twas a single word
That the heart's deep fountain woke,
And in turbulent gushes, its depths were stirred,
For the lips were loved that spoke.

Only a blush! Yet the glow revealed
That she loved him, and with pride
In the armor of many a conquest steel'd,
He lingered near her side,

And breathed into her credulous ear,
In the whim of an idle hour,

I own three golden nuggets.
Two boys and a girl;
Who fondly call me mother;
I'm the happiest woman in the world.

I loved them ere they knew me,
I prayed that they might live;
As their little brown arms entwined me,
I gave all that I could give.

A mother's love and sympathy;
A mother's joy and tears;
A mother's heart—felt interest,
And above all, a mother's prayers.

I heard their childish laughter,
I joined them in their play;
I kissed their cuts and bruises;
I wiped their tears away.

God has let me keep my nuggets,

Spokes when he sees a rosted Pig, he swears
Nothing he loves on't but the chaps and ears:
But carve to him the fat flanks; and he shall
Rid these, and those, and part by part eat all.