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Lovest thou those cloisters, old and dim,
Where ghosts at midnight stray,
To pour abroad unearthly hymn,
And fright the stars away?[1]
Add to their sighs thy hollow tone
Of saddest melancholy—
For I, too, love such places lone,
And court such guests unjolly:
Such haunts, such mates, in sooth, to me
Be welcome as they are to thee.
Blow as thou wilt, blow any where,
Wild spirit of the sky,
It matters not—earth, ocean, air,
Still echoes to my cry,
"I follow thee for, where thou art,
My spirit, too, must be,
While each chord of this wayward heart,
Thrills to thy minstrelsy;
And he that feels so sure must be
Meet co-mate for a shrew like thee!
- ↑ And fright pale stars away.—MS. copy.
