Page:National Lyrics.pdf/219



since I met thee last, O'er thy brow a change hath past, In the softness of thine eyes, Deep and still a shadow lies; From thy voice there thrills a tone, Never to thy childhood known; Thro' thy soul a storm hath moved, —Gentle sister, thou hast loved!

Yes! thy varying cheek hath caught Hues too bright from troubled thought; Far along the wandering stream, Thou art followed by a dream;