  I called to fading day As o’er the hill she flew, ‘Whither, glad light, away? Take me, O take me too!’ She said, ‘O wingless one, Thou hast thy memoried sun’. I said to the droop’d rose Awhile that was so fair, ‘Why dost so swiftly lose, Sweet grace, thy blooming air?’ She said, ‘This is my doom; Cherish thou beauty’s tomb’. I cried to Joy as late I stood, bidding farewell, ‘Must this be too thy fate Whom I have loved so well? He said, ‘My gift I leave With her whom I bereave’.
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