Thy even tenor from the sun,
Ere long we blessed thy coming tread
And quaffed the oders thou didst spread.
O brightest, sweetest of the year!
When all is vocal with thy cheer,
Thy lily-cups and roses red
With us some tear-drops also shed.
The cherry-trees, in shrouds of white,
Bring back to mind a mournful sight—
A coffined brother 'neath the bloom,