While overhead the elder blooms were blowing,
And dewy fragrance filled the wooing wind.
We stand beside the waters of the river,
But now the moaning of the sea is near!
Far off the beacons ’mid the dimness quiver,
And rolling breakers fill our hearts with fear.
No longer choristers of morning greet us,
Or blossoms of the May-time droop above;
But shadows of the twilight rise to meet us,
And cloud the golden harvesting of love.