While the tiny buds to its tones replied;
But when the gay music of fairy-glee,
In the clear, calm midnight rose merrily,
And a thousand glancing beings of air,
Like countless gems held their revels there,
It fled from the woods and the flowers away,
And stole to a silent room, where lay
A dying girl:—
Her mournful eyes
Look’d out from their tears on the dark’ning skies,