Six songs

Angel spirits of sleep,
White-robed, with silver hair,
In your meadows fair,
  Where the willows weep,

And the sad moonbeam
On the gliding stream
  Writes her scatter'd dream:

Angel spirits of sleep,
Dancing to the weir
In the hollow roar
  Of its waters deep;

Know ye how men say
That ye haunt no more
Isle and grassy shore
  With your moonlit play;

That ye dance not here,
White-robed spirits of sleep,
All the summer night
  Threading dances light?

The idle life I lead 
Is like a pleasant sleep, 
Wherein I rest and heed 
The dreams that by me sweep. 

And still of all my dreams 
In turn so swiftly past, 
Each in its fancy seems 
A nobler than the last. 

And every eve I say, 
Noting my step in bliss, 
That I have known no day 
In all my life like this.

My bed and pillow are cold, 
My heart is faint with dread, 
The air hath an odour of mould, 
I dream I lie with the dead : 

I cannot move, 
O come to me, love, 
Or else I am dead. 

The feet I hear on the floor 
Tread heavily overhead: 
O Love, come down to the door, 
Gome, Love, come, ere I be dead : 

Make shine thy light, 
O Love, in the night; 
Or else I am dead.

Crown Winter with green,
And give him good drink
To physic his spleen
Or ever he think.
 
His mouth to be bowl
His feet to the fire;
And let him, good soul,
No comfort desire.
 
So merry he be,
I bid him abide:
And merry be we
This good Yuletide.

Fire of heaven, whose starry arrow 
Pierces the veil of timeless night: 
Molten spheres, whose tempests narrow 
Their floods to a beam of gentle light: 
To charm with a moon-ray quenched from fire 
The land of delight, the land of desire ! 

Smile of love, a flower planted, 
Sprung in the garden of joy that art: 
Eyes that shine witha glow enchanted, 
Whose spreading fires encircle my heart, 
And warm with a noon-ray drenched in fire 
My land of delight, my land of desire !