&nbspMy eyes make pictures, when they are shut:
       &nbsp       &nbspI see a fountain, large and fair,
       &nbspA willow and a ruined hut,
       &nbsp       &nbspAnd thee, and me and Mary there.
O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!
Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow!

       &nbspA wild-rose roofs the ruined shed,
       &nbsp       &nbspAnd that and summer well agree:
       &nbspAnd lo! where Mary leans her head,
       &nbsp       &nbspTwo dear names carved upon the tree!
And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow:
Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.

       &nbsp'Twas day! but now few, large, and bright,
       &nbsp       &nbspThe stars are round the crescent moon!
       &nbspAnd now it is a dark warm night,
       &nbsp       &nbspThe balmiest of the month of June!
A glow-worm fall'n, and on the marge remounting
Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain.

       &nbspO ever—ever be thou blest!
       &nbsp       &nbspFor dearly, Asra! love I thee!
       &nbspThis brooding warmth across my breast,
       &nbsp       &nbspThis depth of tranquil bliss—ah, me!
Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither,
But in one quiet room we three are still together.

       &nbspThe shadows dance upon the wall,
       &nbsp       &nbspBy the still dancing fire-flames made;
       &nbspAnd now they slumber, moveless all!
       &nbsp       &nbspAnd now they melt to one deep shade!
But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee:
I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee!

       &nbspThine eyelash on my cheek doth play—
       &nbsp       &nbsp'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow!
       &nbspBut let me check this tender lay
       &nbsp       &nbspWhich none may hear but she and thou!
Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming.
Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women!