Spring flowers that early, early fade?
But there are griefs--ay, griefs as deep:
The friendship turn'd to hate--
And, deeper still--and deeper still,
Repentance come too late!--too late!
The doubt of those we love; and more
The rayless, dull despair,
When trusted hearts are worthless found,
And all our dreams are air--but air.
Deep in each bosom's secret cell,