A blackened cloud which made it night,
But still the cloud would wear away,
(His youthful cheek was red and rare,)
And still his heart beat light and gay,
Still did he fancy life was fair.
Again I looked—another change—
The darkened eye, the visage wan,
Told me that sorrow had been there,
Told me that time had made him man.
His brow was overcast, and deep