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They waft themselves like happy thoughts away,
Or melt like snow-flakes dropping on the sea;
'T is pastime then to laugh away the hours,
That lightly mingle in thy circling race,
Like dancing-girls, all linked with wreaths of flowers,
Or like swift ripples, that each other chase,
Or deepening dimples o'er a laughing face.
Or melt like snow-flakes dropping on the sea;
'T is pastime then to laugh away the hours,
That lightly mingle in thy circling race,
Like dancing-girls, all linked with wreaths of flowers,
Or like swift ripples, that each other chase,
Or deepening dimples o'er a laughing face.
