XXIV.
Not by the sunshine, with its golden glow,
Nor the green earth, nor yet the laughing sky,
Nor the fair flower-scents,[302] as they come and go
In the soft air, like music wandering by;
—Oh! not by these, th’ unfailing, are we taught
How time and sorrow on our frames have wrought;
But by the sadden’d eye, the darken’d brow
Of kindred aspect, and the long dim gaze,
Which tells us we are changed—how changed from other days!