Had heaven’s own music, and the note of woe
Was all unheard her sunny bowers among.
Life’s little world of bliss was newly born;
We knew not, cared not, it was born to die,
Flush’d with the cool breeze and the dews of morn,
With dancing heart we gazed on the pure sky,
And mock’d the passing clouds that dimm’d its blue,
Like our own sorrows then, as fleeting and as few.
And manhood felt her sway too—on the eye,
Half realized her early dreams burst bright,