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The heavy eyelids slowly droop,
The eyes grow less and less,
The last of languid glances flown,
Has left but peacefulness.
'Twas like the twilight's mellow shades,
That, quivering o'er the snow,
Seemed lingering glimpses from the sun,
And almost loathe to go.


Ere long shalt thou refreshed awake,
Nor ever know surprise,
That weariness from thee took flight,
In such a strange, sweet guise.
As suddenly the Spring anew,
Starts from beneath the ground,
Once more with fresh life to pursue,
Its never-ending round.