That form’d the joys of “other days.”
All, all return, and with them bring
The “life of life,” its vivid spring.
The sun is bright, the flowers re-bloom,
Cold friends are kind, kind e’en the tomb:
For one brief moment ’tis forgot
There once were those, who now are not.
Eyes beam, and hearts as fondly beat,
Voices their wonted tones repeat—
But ’tis on Fancy’s ear alone—