Burn, streamed from showery locks she tosses high!—
A stronger swimmer, Death, glares in her wake.—
Cast, love, ah cast thy harp away!
Aweary am I of thy lay—
Kneel down by me and pray.
III.
WHEN love delays, when love delays and Joy
Steals a strange shadow o'er the happy hills,
And Hope smiles from To-morrow, nor fulfills