Then haste, O, haste, to the country downs, Where the valleys are sweet with joys, And the soul grows young, and the heart is light, And the bosom is like a boy's! SPINSTERHOOD. Alone, alone, in the twilight gray, In the shadows so dark and dim, I watch through all of the weary hours, And I wait with my heart for him; For him who'll come, when he comes at all, As my king and warrior bold; Whose form so tall is my fortress wall And whose heart is a chunk of gold. Again, again, do I dream the dreams, All the dreams that my young heart knew, And through my soul do the yearnings thrill As of old they were wont to do; I know in truth when his face I see, I shall fall at his shining feet, Where'er it be and whoever is he, In the light of his glances sweet. I wait in vain for the sounds that rise From the tread of his horse's hoof, And still the mists hide his form away And forever he stays aloof; His shining face and his eyes so bright In the shades of the distance hide, And out of the night with the stars bedight He hath never approached my side! O, years, O, wonderful tide of years, From the shadows of time set free My king, my lover, my life, and bring To my heart what is most of me! Somewhere in pain do his yearnings grope For the joys that my love would bring; O, up the slope of his life-long hope, Guide the feet of my royal king! "SWEET FAIRIES FROM THE ISLES OF SONG." Sweet fairies from the isles of song, Bewitching choirs from music land, The pleasures of your wondrous band Once wooed me from the ways of wrong; Once won my heart with fond caress To sacred vales of summer glees, Till carols fraught with lullabies Filled all my soul with blessedness! My yearnings miss those gentle sprites, Whose laughing lips and angel eyes And voices ever winsome-wise, Bedewed my dreams with new delights; For in the sad hours of my pain I hold them as I hold the dead, And trust that in the vales they tread, My hands shall clasp their hands again. From those glad meadows where they play 'Neath lovely sun and gentle star, My longing soul has wandered far On rocky path and thorny way; I croon again the notes of song In strains they taught me years ago, And weep because my sorrows know They have been absent for so long. Return, O, laughing sprites of rest, From gentle isles and peaceful seas, And pour the balsamed wine of ease Upon the anguish of my breast! Till gladness in her raptures roll Sweet strains of music, and I gain Eternal joy for all the pain That darkens o'er my weary soul! STANZAS.