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NATIONAL LYRICS.
Dim alabaster gleams—a lonely Swan
Warbled his death-chaunt; and a poet stood
Listening to that strange music, as it shook
The lilies on the wave; and made the pines
And all the laurels of the haunted shore
Thrill to its passion. Oh! the tones were sweet,
Ev'n painfully—as with the sweetness rung
From parting love; and to the Poet's thought
This was their language.
"Summer, I depart!
O light and laughing summer, fare thee well!
No song the less thro' thy rich woods will swell,
For one, one broken heart.
And fare ye well, young flowers!
Ye will not mourn! ye will shed odour still,
And wave in glory, colouring every rill,
Known to my youth's fresh hours.
