When thou are not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop shadows on it! When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers.
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
Does not all the blood within me Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee, As the springs to meet the sunshine.
Love is sunshine, hate is shadow, Life is checkered shade and sunshine.
The emigrant's way o'er the western desert is mark'd by Camp-fires long consum'd and bones that bleach in the sunshine.
The sunshine fails, the shadows grow more dreary, And I am near to fall, infirm and weary.
Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.