SONG.
1
A brightened Sorrow veils her face,
Sweet thoughts with thoughts forlorn,
And playful sadness, like the grace
Of an Autumnal morn,
When birds new-waked, like sprightly elves,
The languid echoes rouse,
And infant Zephyrs make themselves
Familiar with old boughs.
2
All round our hearts the Maiden's hair
Its own soft shade doth fling:
Her sigh perfumes the forest air,
Like eve—but eve in Spring;
When Spring precipitates her flow;
And Summer, swift to greet her,
Breathes, every night, a warmer glow
Half through the dusk to meet her.
