Around our spirits twined,
And we start, and weep, and tremble,
To the Wind, the wandering Wind!
YE ARE NOT MISS’D, FAIR FLOWERS!
Ye are not miss’d, fair flowers, that late were spreading
The summer’s glow by fount and breezy grot;
There falls the dew, its fairy favours shedding—
The leaves dance on, the young birds miss you not.
Still plays the sparkle o’er the rippling water,
O lily! whence thy cup of pearl is gone;