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Rh

Mid gay and crowded festivals, In many a fair and glittering scene, I tread those bright and gilded halls Wherein thy feet so oft have been. Familiar are the names to me Which my new friends and flatterers bear, Each sound comes linked with thoughts of thee; But thou art———where?

The busy throng which thou hast known In days gone by approach me now, And every word and every tone Reminds me of thy plighted vow. They name thee not, but fancy brings Thy voice upon the passing air, Thy form is borne upon her wings; But thou art———where?