Have left the hedge and forest sere,
And gone where all is summer-time.
The frail bright flowers that bloom’d around,
When ye were blooming bright as they,
Lie crushed and withered on the ground,
Their fragrance heavenward passed away.
And ye are gone where genial skies
And radiant suns eternal shine,
Where peaceful songs forever rise,
From saintly tongues and lips divine.