Long within the heart's fond core;
So she nursed the pleasing passion,
Her star-home to see once more—
Made an ark of wicker branches,
All by secret arts and care;
Sought the circle with her earth-boy,
Fleeing to her Father star.
There, at length, the boy grew weary,
Weary e'en of heavenly spheres,
Longing for earth's cares and pleasures,