The first dew on the first flower!
But the first of all my losses was the losing of the bower.
All my losses did I tell you,
Ye, perchance, would look away;—
Ye would answer me, “Farewell! you
Make sad company to-day;
And your tears are falling faster than the bitter words you say.”
For God placed me like a dial
In the open ground, with power;
And my heart had for its trial,