Builders, raise the ceiling high, Raise the dome into the sky, Hear the wedding song! For the happy groom is near, Tall as Mars, and statelier, Hear the wedding song!
Now the Earth with many flowers puts on her spring embroidery
Love, like a mountain-wind upon an oak, falling upon me, shakes me leaf and bough.
There is no place for grief in a house which serves the Muse.
Eros harrows my heart: wild gales sweeping desolate mountains, uprooting oaks.
The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.