We found them, flowers of summer hue:
Their golden cups were lighted
With sparkles of the pearly dew—
We left them blighted!
We found them,—like those fairy flowers;
And the light of morn lay holy
Over their sad and sainted bowers—
We left them, lowly.
We found them,—like twin stars, alone,
In brightness and in feeling;
We left them,—and the curse was on
Their beauty stealing.
They rest in quiet, where they are:
Their lifetime is the story
Of some fair flower—some silver star,
Faded in glory!