Hung dim o’er fount and bower.
Yes! thou and I, by stream, by shore,
In song, in prayer, in sleep,
Have been as we may be no more—
Kind sister, let me weep!
I leave thee, father! Eve’s bright moon
Must now light other feet,
With the gather’d grapes, and the lyre in tune,
Thy homeward step to greet.
Thou in whose voice, to bless thy child,