The genial spot had ever shown
A countenance that as sweetly smiled—[560]
The face of summer-hours.
And we were gay, our hearts at ease;
With pleasure dancing through the frame
We journeyed; all we knew of care—[561]
Our path that straggled here and there;
Of trouble—but the fluttering breeze;
Of Winter—but a name.
If foresight could have rent the veil