| Winter Noon |
| | Well, my kind, in silence sad
trip we after what we read
We the globe can compass soon
swifter than the wandering moon
I look to like,
if looking liking prays
I gather thorns,
seek night to happy days
On life's vast ocean do we sail
I pity myself, 'cause passion is the gale
Tears argumenting the fresh morning-dew
I know my grievance or be much denied
Mistempted sorrow, fear me not!
You dreamt a dream tonight and so do I
And since You wove dreams of joy and fear
which made me terrible and dear
But I arose and saw the dawn
when light rode high and was gone
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