Of bright things, sent from a fairy land,
And lay on the grave as though some kind hand
Had scattered, that silent heart above,
The sweets that in life it had learned to love.
But ’twere vain to tell of his wanderings free
O’er leafy land, and o’er foaming sea—
How he swept round the palace, and played through the cot—
Passed “the highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot;”
How he wafted the purple of lordly pride,
And fluttered the rags of the beggar aside,