And none that weep, and none that say ‘Farewell!’
He came to guide us thither; but away
The Happy call’d him, and he might not stay.
“We saw him slowly fade—athirst, perchance,
For the fresh waters of that lovely clime;
Yet was there still a sunbeam in his glance,
And on his gleaming hair no touch of time—
Therefore we hoped: but now the lake looks dim,
For the green summer comes—and finds not him!
“We gather’d round him in the dewy hour