The Departed

And thus they flit away
Earth's lovely things.

Where's the snow — the summer snow —
On the lovely lily flower ?
Where the hues the sunset shed
O'er the rose's crimson hour ?
Where 's the gold — the pure bright gold —
O'er the young laburnum flung ;
And the fragrant sighs that breathed
Whence the hyacinth drooping hung ?
Gone, gone — they all are gone.

Maiden, lovelier than the spring,
Is thy bloom departed too ?
Has thy cheek forgot its rose,
Or thine eye its April blue ?
Where are thy sweet bursts of song ?
Where the wreaths that bound thy hair ?
Where the thousand prisoner curls ?
And thy sunny smiles are — Where ? —
Gone, gone — they all are gone.

Youth, where is thine open brow ?
What has quell'd thine eagle eye ?
Where's the freshness of thy cheek ?
And thy dark hair's raven dye ?
Where 's thy crimson banner now ?
Where's thine eager step and sword ?
Where 's thine hour of dreamless sleep ?
Where frank jest and careless word ? —
Gone, gone — they all are gone.

Where 's the lighted hall ; and where
All that made its midnight gay ?
Where 's the music of the harp ?
And the minstrel's knightly lay ?
Where 's the graceful saraband ?
Where the lamps of starry light ?
Where the vases of bright flowers ?
Where the blushes yet more bright ? —
Gone, gone — they all are gone.

Where are those fair dreams that made
Life so beautiful at first ?
Where the many fantasies
That young Hope so fondly nurst ;
Love with motto like a knight,
Faithful even to the tomb ;
Fortune following the wish ;
Pleasure with a folded plume ? —
Gone, gone — they all are gone.

Oh ! mine own heart, where are they —
Visions of thine earlier hour,
When thy young hope's colours were
Like those on the morning flower.
Where's the trusting confidence
Of affection deep and true ?
And the spirits sunshine-like,
Which o'er all their gladness threw ? —
Gone, gone — they all are gone.