When Fancy knew no scene undecked with flowers,
And Expectation flew on Fancy's wing!
Here, on the bank, beside this whispering stream,
Which still runs by as gayly as of yore,
Marking its eddies, I was wont to dream
Of things away, on some far fairy shore.
Then every whirling leaf and bubbling ball,
That floated by, was full of radiant thought;
Each linked with love, had music at its call,
And thrilling echoes o'er my bosom brought.