Volentinbus Annis.
—Virg.
No, weep and mourn them as we will,1
We cannot bring them back ;2
They passed like sunshine from the hill,3
And left as little track.4
Youth’s hopes and loves and happy dreams,5
Our castles in the air,6
Though built of morning’s brightest beams,7
What are they now—and where ?8
Our tender walks on twilight eves,9
In tangled woods and dells,10
Soothed by the sound of whispering leaves,11
And breeze-borne village bells.12
No laughter through the coppice rings,13
Our gipsy jaunts are o’er ;14
Our harps—who’ll tune the broken strings,15
Or wake their music more ?16
Eyes look their last, hands meet and part,17
And lips lie mute and cold ;18
What strains can ever touch the heart19
Like those we heard of old ?20
Our dearest earthly joys must die,21
However sharp the pain,22
And none but boys and girls should sigh23
To have them back again.24
For us the owl and ivied tower,25
And bat on dusky wing,26
Are fitter than the summer bower,27
And song birds of the spring.28
See but the nettle now, and briar,29
Where Beauty’s haunts have been,30
And memory with her mournful lyre31
Sole minstrel of the scene.32
Those silent stars, the tranquil night,33
Recall the vanished years ;34
Their mirth and smiles too soon took flight,35
And left the gloom and tears.36