A Change.

With wooing voice and dazzling smiles she glides,1
Upon the flowery paths we long to follow,2
Her glory on the hill’s tall crest abides,3
Her music murmurs from the bosky hollow,4
She pours her vigour in the eager brain,5
She nerves the head with loss and wrong to cope,6
We mock the warning voice of change or pain,7
Tracing the footsteps of the angel Hope.8
But when the weary height seems almost won,9
And the old valley that we loved of yore10
Lies far below beneath the setting sun,11
The radiance lights the golden head no more ;12
The soft wings droop, the ringing accents falter,13
We cling around her feet, we worship yet,14
And even as we kneel, we see her alter,15
And in her place, back pointing, stands Regret.16