Clear on the night of my spirit,
To me shines the glance of a star,
It is she! My heart's little maiden!
From her glance gleams something afar,
...
The land lies parched in sun,- to heaven the air is still,
Hushed now upon the harp the golden strings' lost thrill;
Aeolian harps our native singers are,- and numb
Must be their heart, their dying life blood cease to flow,
...
Drawing near the Easter Sunday
With the Easter-greeting kiss;
When I come, remember Dora―
Not alone we suffer this!
...
The lark at sunrise trills it high-
The greeting Christ is risen!
And through the wood the black-bird pipes
The greeting Christ is risen!
...
When shadows pale are sinking in hues the twilight weaves,
Upon the golden grain fields of gleaming wheaten sheaves-
Upon the emerald pastures and blue of forests deep,
When the soft mists of silver o'er the sea doth creep;
...
'Mother, why weepest thou ever
For my little sister fair?
She is now in heaven's kingdom-
Ah, it must be wondrous there!'
...
'O mountains of my native country! O valleys of my home!
On you gleam Winter's snowflakes white and twinkle lambs of Summer-
On you the rosy sunlight glows, you know no deathly shudder!'
...