As if they sought to stay its arrowy flight,
Then give it forth again more swift and bright.
'Twas changeful—beautiful; now dark, now fair—
A tale of life, from childhood to the tomb—
Its birth-place near the skies, in mountain air,
Where wild flowers throw around their sweet perfume,
Like the blest thoughts that often brightly bloom,
At home, beneath a mother's culturing care—
Its form now hid in shadows, such as gloom
Our downward way—its grave in ocean, where