Has grown more fair, beloved more,
A part of some fay-walked shore,
A haunt of beauties rare.
The gay dawn smells more fragrant there,
(When youthful May, new, fresh and fair,
Comes, bird-like through the laughing air,)
Than it was even of old;
And Evening throws a richer dress,
(O'er Elfindale's mild loveliness,)
Of fading pink and gold.