And something mourned within my heart,
But not for the blighted tree.
For a vision came with a lordly bow,
And stood beside me there,
With pride-wreathed lips and a clear dark eye—
Away—'twas a thing of air.
Yet a being like it on earth once dwelt,
With men thus high and cold;
But the valley's clods press heavily
And mute o'er the spoils they hold.