It hath pass’d away like a summer breeze,
When it leaves the hills for the far blue seas,
Where we may not trace its way.
Go forth, and like her be free!
With thy radiant wing, and thy glancing eye,
Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky,
And what is our grief to thee?
Is it aught e’en to her we mourn?
Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?
Doth she rest with the flowers o’er her gentle head,