With many a short-lived thought that passed between,
And disappeared.
"I journeyed back this way,
When, in the warmth of midsummer, the wheat[79]
Was yellow; and the soft and bladed grass,[BC]
Springing afresh, had o'er the hay-field spread
Its tender verdure. At the door arrived,
I found that she was absent. In the shade,
Where now we sit, I waited her return.
Her cottage, then a cheerful object, wore