Around me like a golden halo fell!
Then the bright veil of phantasy was riven,
And my lips murmured “fare thee well!—farewell!”
I dared not listen to thy words, nor turn
To meet the pleading language of thine eyes,
I only felt their power, and in the urn
Of memory treasured their sweet rhapsodies.
We parted then forever—and the hours
Of that bright day were gathered to the past—
But through long wintry nights I heard the flowers