Why has she gone? Seeks she afar
Some green isle’s shadier bowers?
Some happier nest—serener airs—
And purer love than ours?
Oh not on earth! not here—not here!
Clouds veil our brightest skies,
And summer’s mildest breezes,
Chill our bird of Paradise.
The treasure which we deemed our own
Was briefly lent, not given.