He sighed through the banners that hung on high—
(Dimmed was their gorgeous blazonry,)
But they waved aloft, as they waved of old,
When the shout and song shook each heavy fold,
While the dust fell down in a darkening cloud—
And the moth was rocked in her silken shroud—
And the bat sprang forth from his loathsome nest,
’Mid the pennons there, an unseemly guest!
Then he went to the violet’s lonely bowers,
And gathered their breath, though he left the flowers,