“Thou may’st come to the summer woods again,
And thy heart have no echo to greet their strain;
Afar from the foliage its love will dwell—
A change must pass o’er thee. Farewell, farewell!”
On rode the youth—and the founts and streams
Thus mingled a voice with his joyous dreams:
“We have been thy playmates through many a day,
Wherefore thus leave us?—oh! yet delay!
“Listen but once to the sound of our mirth!
For thee ’tis a melody passing from earth;