Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/303



and fair earth! Sweet is your kindly mirth, Angel of Death! yet, yet awhile delay! Too sad it is to part, Thus in my spring of heart, With all the light and laughter of the day.

For me the falling leaf Touches no chord of grief, No dark void in the rose's bosom lies: Not one triumphal tone, One hue of hope, is gone From song or bloom beneath the summer skies.