Defenseless of a covert from the ray,
Dazzling and pitiless, that beams o'erhead.
The rose has lost its bloom; the lily dies;
Our garden's perfumed treasures all are fled;
The bee no longer to their sweetness flies,
The humming-bird no longer dips his head.
The butterfly—that fairy-glancing thing—
Ethereal blossom of the light and air!
No longer poises on its fluttering wing;
How could it hover in this bleak despair?