她在写什么?看她，她的手指动得多快啊!她那年轻的眉宇多么热切地在上面沉思!她的长卷发，下垂，遮蔽了光线，她迅速地把它们放在一边，她也不知道，那束水晶明亮，她匆忙的触摸解开。它滑下她的丝绸衣裙，闪闪发光地落在她的脚边;它悄无声息地落下，因为她同样追求她的劳动的甜蜜。最可爱的时刻，是在那深蓝的天空;六月金色的太阳落山了，没有引起她的注意。欢快的草坪，敞开的大门，遥远的白色道路，徒劳地等待着她轻盈的脚步，她今天没有出来。在那位女士的椅子旁边，有一扇敞开的玻璃门，从那里，通向长满青苔的斜坡，有一段大理石楼梯向下走。 Tall plants of bright and spicy bloom Around the threshold grow; Their leaves and blossoms shade the room, From that sun's deepening glow. Why does she not a moment glance Between the clustering flowers, And mark in heaven the radiant dance Of evening's rosy hours ? O look again ! Still fixed her eye, Unsmiling, earnest, still, And fast her pen and fingers fly, Urged by her eager will. Her soul is in th' absorbing task; To whom, then, doth she write ? Nay, watch her still more closely, ask Her own eyes' serious light; Where do they turn, as now her pen Hangs o'er th' unfinished line ? Whence fell the tearful gleam that then Did in their dark spheres shine ? The summer-parlour looks so dark, When from that sky you turn, And from th' expanse of that green park, You scarce may aught discern. Yet o'er the piles of porcelain rare, O'er flower-stand, couch, and vase, Sloped, as if leaning on the air, One picture meets the gaze. 'Tis there she turns; you may not see Distinct, what form defines The clouded mass of mystery Yon broad gold frame confines. But look again; inured to shade Your eyes now faintly trace A stalwart form, a massive head, A firm, determined face. Black Spanish locks, a sunburnt cheek, A brow high, broad, and white, Where every furrow seems to speak Of mind and moral might. Is that her god ? I cannot tell; Her eye a moment met Th' impending picture, then it fell Darkened and dimmed and wet. A moment more, her task is done, And sealed the letter lies; And now, towards the setting sun She turns her tearful eyes. Those tears flow over, wonder not, For by the inscription, see In what a strange and distant spot Her heart of hearts must be ! Three seas and many a league of land That letter must pass o'er, E'er read by him to whose loved hand 'Tis sent from England's shore. Remote colonial wilds detain Her husband, loved though stern; She, 'mid that smiling English scene, Weeps for his wished return.