We ride away in the dying day,
We ride till we reach the spot
Where all alone in the wilds unknown
We find our lonely cot.
And I have no wish in the whole wide world,
And I know that my love has not.

With a dreary moan the viols groan,
And the dancers pause for breath,
And my lord says, 'Dear, you are ill, I fear,
You are paler than your wreath.'
O God! O God! to be out in the night,
Riding with love or death.



GOOD NIGHT



The day is at its golden height,
No shadow falls on sea or land;
And yet to thee I say Good night,
As we stand here hand clasped in hand,
Good night--Good night.

The laughing waves are summer blue,
The bees hum in the sun's warm light;
But frosts of winter chill me through,