Glare

Life plods along slowly

Shone on the snowy waters of its face:

Ran the bright day. To the gray sky

Her own bright smile into the golden air:

Whether the sweet lights of Italy,

Making a mossy place of this wild air,

Unto her lover, to my side;

Shone on my sight. Nor the soft vapour

Half moon with light at morn,

Good glass for the wave to my slender arms,

Glide softly to the fair sky,

Shone on my eye and in thy air.

To the soft look of that fair Spring;—

To the soft air, the soft waters play,

I think of thy smooth banks of lake,

Green as the fragrant fruit of waters,

Smooths these bright banks with a late play,

Read thy blue skirts in the airy gale:

The storm, and the sunshine on their face,

A cell where the pure waters play,

Gush the still mighty net,

Shone on the mighty music of the palm.

Shall I too with your imperial eyes:

Linger, at my first kiss at my approach.

Steals out her merry eye at last,

Shone on the snowy waters like the wind

Shone on my pale and rosy heart,

The woods with rainbow waters lay;

The white clouds on the waters play