There dwelt no shadow of a dream gone by;
And with the brethren of his fields, the feast
Was gay as when the voice whose sounds had ceased
Mingled with theirs. Even thus life’s rushing tide
Bears back affection from the grave’s dark side;
Alas! to think of this!—the heart’s void place
Fill’d up so soon!—so like a summer cloud,
All that we loved to pass and leave no trace!—
He lay forgotten in his early shroud.
Forgotten?—not of all! The sunny smile