HE, who those secrets whispered -- he is dead -- No more the rose and lily shall confide To him how faithless was the Wind that sighed With fleeting love, rifled their bloom and fled; The "Garden Fairies," by Titania led, Ring no more chimes of rapture since he died; And from unseen "Wind Gardens," where abide The souls of blossoms, no sweet breath is shed. His flowers and he have vanished: yet, who knows Through what fair fields unwitnessed of the sun He wanders, among blossoms red and white, Fostered of Joy -- where never chill blast blows, And the glad year is always just begun? -- Nor Time, nor Death, immoral youth can blight. |