—Are ye, too, pass’d away?

Mournfully, sing mournfully!

The royal rose is gone:

Melt from the woods, my spirit! melt

In one deep farewell tone!

Not so!—swell forth triumphantly

The full, rich, fervent strain!

Hence with young love and life I go,

In the summer’s joyous train.

With sunshine, with sweet odour,