With linkèd branches, golden shadows spread;
Where sweet wind-flowers bend before the breeze,
And many an arum lifts her hooded head;
Where the early primrose blows,
Long we lingered, loth to part:
Have you forgotten, Lady Rose,
Our earnest converse, heart to heart?
III.
The mossy stonework of the ancient span
That bridged the clear brown waters of the stream,