Republican Herald

MORAL SELECTIONS.

THE DEPARTED.

—And these 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 bright pure 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 the sunny smiles are—Where?
Gone, gone—they all are gone.
Youth, where is thine open brow?
What has quell'd thine eagle eye?
Where the freshness of thy cheek,
And the 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 mighty 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 the young hope so fondly nurs't;
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 thy earlier hour,
When thy young hope's colors were
Like those on the morning flower?
Where's the trusting confidence
Of affection deep and true?
And the spirit's sunshine like,
Which o'er all their gladness threw?
Gone, gone—they all are gone.
L.E.L.