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I had past years where the green wood
    Makes twilight of the noon,
And I had watch'd the silver flood
    Kiss'd by the rising moon;
And gazed upon the clear midnight
In all its luxury of light.

And, thrown where the blue violets dwell,
    I would pass hours away,
Musing o'er some old chronicle
    Fill'd with a wild love lay;
Till beauty seem'd to me a thing
Made for all nature's worshipping.

I saw thee, and the air grew bright
    In thy clear eyes' sunshine;