IX.

Why didst thou haste away, ere yet the green Enameled meadow, the sequestered dell, The blossoming orchard, leafy grove were seen In the sweet season thou hadst sung so well? Why cast this shadow o’er the vernal scene? No more its rustic charms of thee may tell And so content us with their simple mien. Was it that memory’s unrelinquished spell (Ere man had stumbled here amid the tombs,) Revived for thee that Spring’s perennial blooms, Those cloud-capped alcoves where we once did dwell? Translated wast thou in some rapturous dream? Our once familiar faces strange must seem, Whilst from thine own celestial smiles did stream!