But ye!—ye are changed since ye met me last!
There is something bright from your features pass’d!
There is that come over your brow and eye
Which speaks of a world where the flowers must die!
—Ye smile! but your smile hath a dimness yet:
Oh! what have you look’d on since last we met?
Ye are changed, ye are changed!—and I see not
here
All whom I saw in the vanish’d year!
There were graceful heads, with their ringlets