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Once it
smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the
mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of
which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
Now
each visiter shall confess
The sad valley's
restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless -
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic
solitude.
Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees
That palpitate like the chill seas
Around the misty
Hebrides!
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from
morn till even,
Over the violets there that lie
In
myriad types of the human eye -
Over the lilies there
that wave
And weep above a nameless grave!
They
wave: - from out their fragrant tops
Eternal dews
come down in drops.
They weep: - from off their
delicate stems
Perennial tears descend in gems.
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