From far off dingles flock the sheep
To seek their shelter for the night.
My dog about me as of yore
Plays seek and fetch as we go home;
But, Ellen, why dost thou no more
To meet me in the gloaming come?

The heart I gave thee free from thorn
Why seek to wound with coldness, sweet?
If lasts thine anger and thy scorn
Death's coming I will gladly greet.
Yet if to lose thee be my fate
My life I cannot all regret,
To see thy face doth compensate
Though weary storms await me yet.

Across thy memory's golden gate
Let not my faithlessness appear,
Nor think upon my failings great,
Forget them--for I love thee, dear.
But if of good I aught have done,
Oh that with eyes of kindness mark,
And let it shine--as when the sun
Spreads wings of gold to chase the dark.

Thou rulest all my phantasy
With thy fair face and eyes divine,
The form, which in my sleep I see
Mid dreamland's mazy fields, is thine.
Oh if thy sweet companionship