Mine eyes have seen when once at sunset hour White lily flocks that edged a lonely lake All rose and sank upon the lifting swell That swayed their long stems lazily, and lapped
Their floating pads and stirred among the leaves. And when the sun from western gates of day Poured colored flames, they, kissed to ruddy shame, So blushed through snowy petals, that they glowed
Like roses morning-blown in dewy bowers, When garden-walks lie dark with early shade. That so their perfumed chalices were brimmed With liquid glory till they overflowed
And spilled rich lights and purple shadows out, That splashed the pool with gold, and stained its waves In tints of violet and ruby blooms. But when the flashing gem that lit the day
Dropped in its far blue casket of the hills, The rainbow paintings faded from the mere, The wine-dark shades grew black, the gilding dimmed, While, paling slow through tender amber hues,
The crimsoned lilies blanched to coldest white, And wanly shivered in the evening breeze. When twilight closed — when earliest dew-drops fell All frosty-chill deep down their golden hearts,
They shrank at that still touch, as maidens shrink, When love's first footstep frights with sweet alarms The untrod wildness of their virgin breasts; Then shut their ivory cups, and dipping low
Their folded beauties in the gloomy wave, They nodded drowsily and heaved in sleep. But sweeter far than summer dreams at dawn, Their mingled breaths from out the darkness stole,
Across the silent lake, the winding shores, The shadowy hills that rose in lawny slopes, The marsh among whose reeds the wild fowl screamed, And dusky woodlands where the night came down.
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