Julia Caroline (Ripley) Dorr

Oh, hush thee, Earth! Fold thou thy weary palms!
The sunset glory fadeth in the west;
The purple splendor leaves the mountain's crest;
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O wind that blows out of the West,
Thou hast swept over mountain and sea,
Dost thou bear on thy swift, glad wings
The breath of my love to me?
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Nay, you wrong her my friend, she's not fickle; her love she has simply outgrown:
One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the
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When you lay before me dead,
In such pallid rest,
On those passive lips of thine
Not one kiss I pressed!
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Day by day the Organ-Builder in his lonely chamber wrought;
Day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his thought,
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Why didst thou come into my life so late?
If it were morning I could welcome thee
With glad all-hails, and bid each hour to be
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I

Mysterious One, inscrutable, unknown,
A silent Presence, with averted face,
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A path across a meadow fair and sweet,
Where clover-blooms the lithesome grasses greet,
A path worn wmooth by his impetuous feet.
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On hoary Conway's battlemented height,
O poet-heart, I pluck for thee a rose!
Through arch and court the sweet wind wandering goes;
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O fair young queen, who liest dead to-day
In thy proud palace o'er the moaning sea,
With still, white hands that never more may be
Lifted to pluck life's roses bright with May
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Bird beneath the midnight sky
As on my lonely couch I lie,
I hear thee singing in the dark,
Why sing not I?
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Why didst thou come into my life so late?
If it were morning I could welcome thee
With glad all-hails, and bid each hour to be
The willing servitor of thine estate,
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