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Dream thou then, and bind thy brow
A LAKE and a fairy boat
Thy gown should be snow-white silk,
Red rubies should deck thy hands, And diamonds should be thy dow'r But Fairies have broke their wands, And wishing has lost its pow'r !
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Where are the songs of Summer ?
- With the sun, Oping the dusky eyelids of the south, Till shade and silence waken up as one, And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth.
Where are the
birds ? Away, away, On panting wings through the inclement skies,
Lest owls should prey
Undazzled at noon-day,
Where are the blooms of Summer? - In the west,
To a most gloomy breast.
Where is the Dryad's immortality ? Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew, Or wearing the long gloomy Winter through
In the smooth holly's green eternity.
The squirrel gloats on his accomplish'd hoard,
And honey bees have stor'd
And sighs her tearful spells
Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone With the last leaves for a love-rosary, Whilst all the wither'd world looks drearily, Like a dim picture of the drowned past In the hush'd mind's mysterious far away, Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last Into that distance, grey upon
O go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded
She wears a coronal of Alowers faded
Upon her forehead, and a face of care ;-