  A monotone of love and song, In cadence mild, serene As unseen harps borne on the wind, Breathes over all the scene. I love thee yet, beauteous time; Yet oh, so far away Adown the dim forsaken past Thou lead’st my thoughts to-day. So grand, awak’ning from death’s sleep, So regally adorned Art thou, O nature’s queen; and I Thy absence long have mourned As for the dead who come no more. Across a wintry sea I look in vain; only in dreams Do they return to me. The melody of other times, In many an olden song, Echoing down the vanished years In interminable throng, The dear old strains again, Though fraught with many banished hopes, Delusive dreams, and vain. |
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