'"Ah, well I recollect that hour,
When I sat, gazing, just as now,
Toward that ivy-mantled tower
Among these flowers which wave below!
No—not these flowers—they're long since dead,
And flowers have budded, bloomed, and gone,
Since those were plucked which gird the head
Laid underneath yon churchyard stone!
I stooped to pluck a rose that grew
Beside this window, waving then;