My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.

I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.

When Death to either shall come - I pray it be first to me.

When first we met we did not guess that Love would prove so hard a master.

So sweet love seemed that April morn, when first we kissed beside the thorn, so strangely sweet, it was not strange we thought that love could never change.

Scatter the clouds that hide The face of heaven, and show Where sweet peace doth abide, Where Truth and Beauty grow.

The lonely season in lonely lands, when fled Are half the birds, and mists lie low, and the sun Is rarely seen, nor strayeth far from his bed; The short days pass unwelcomed one by one.