The trembling pulses of the dawn fill with faint glow the violet skies, and on moist, day-smitten lawn. The peace of morning lies...

A blessed truce of woe and sin,
a glad surcease of care's annoy;
the walking world has pleasure in
its matin light and joy...

And all the joy that fills the air,
And all the light that gilds the blue,
I see it in your eyes and hair,
I know it, love, in you...

O'er lips and eyes and golden floss
there floats a charm I cannot reach,
A glimpse of gain, a threat of loss,
Beyond my subtlest speech.

The amethyst flush will fade above
Into the dust-dim glare of noon:
The love of youth, the youth of love,
will fade and pass as soon.

There are no eyes but sleep...