How still the hour! br Remote br The day-moon seems to float br Above the mountains. Hath a ghostly flow' br Of Heaven released a petal-flake to drift br Hither, thro' some blue rift? br br Ah! that the wind br Took wing! br That here a thrush might sing! br Rapture I seek, and grief alone I find, br Where quiet is, and forest-shadows fall br Compassionate of all. br br O thou mine own— br O Love! br For what I know not of br I wait unhappy, and I wait alone. br Far is thy solitary rose, and far br The mystic evening-star.