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into the West,
O turn again, fair Ines,
Would I had been, fair Ines,
I saw thee, lovely Ines,
If it had been no more !
Alas, alas, fair Ines,
song, With Music waiting on her steps, And shoutings of the throng; But some were sad, and felt no mirth, But only Music's wrong, In sounds that sang Farewell, Farewell, To her you've lov'd so long.
Farewell, farewell, fair Ines,
THE DEPARTURE OF SUMMER.
Summer is gone on swallows' wings, And Earth has buried all her flowers :
No more the lark, the linnet sings,
There is a shadow on the plain
There is in woods a solemn sound
Of hollow warnings whisper'd round,
Yes, Summer 's gone like pageant bright; Its glorious days of golden light
the mimic suns that quiver,
her face. Old Time hath laid them in the mould ; Sure he is blind as well as old, Whose hand relentless never spares Young cheeks so beauty-bright as theirs ! Gone are the flame-ey'd lovers now From where so blushing-blest they tarried Under the hawthorn's blossom-bough, Gone; for Day and Night are married. All the light of love is fled: Alas! that negro breasts should hide