Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
Earth reserves no blessing For the unblessed of Heaven!
No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere.
Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If he shot me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips.
And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.
It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.