Four Songs , opus 45

She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright 
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light 
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
 
One shade the more, one ray the less, 
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress, 
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express 
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, 
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below, 
A heart whose love is innocent.

Up yonder on the mountain
A thousand times I stand,
Leant on my crook, and gazing
Down on the valley land.

I follow the flock to the pasture;
My little dog watches them still,
I have come below, but I know not
How I descended the hill.

The beautiful valley is covered
With blossoms of every hue;
I pluck them, alas! Without knowing
Whom I shall give them to.

I seek in the rain and the tempest
A refuge under the tree:
Yonder the doors are fasten'd,
And all is a dream to me.

Right over the roof of the dwelling
I see a rainbow stand;
But she has departed forever,
And gone far out into the land.

Far out in the land, and farther
Perhaps to an alien shore;
Go forward, ye sheep! go forward,
The heart of the shepherd is sore.

When thou art nigh, it seems 
A new creation round ; 
The sun hath fairer beams, 
The lute a softer sound. 

Though thee alone I see, 
And hear alone thy sigh, 
'Tis light, 'tis song to me, 
'Tis all when thou art nigh. 

When thou art nigh, no thought 
Of grief comes o'er my heart ; 
I only think could aught 
But joy be where thou art ? 

Life seems a waste of breath, 
When far from thee I sigh ; 
And death ay, even death 
Were sweet, if thou wert nigh.