Wayward-souled Callirhöe.
Sometimes, in mockery of care,
Thy playful thought will never rest,
Darting about, now here, now there,
Like sun-beams on a river’s breast,
Shifting with each breath of air,
By its very unrest fair.
As a bright and summer stream,
Seen in childhood’s happy dream,
Singing nightly, singing daily,