I COME! I come! ye have call'd me long- I have breathed on the South, and the chestnut-flowers By thousands have burst from the forest-bowers, And the ancient graves and the fallen fanes Are veil'd with wreaths on Italian plains ;- I have look'd on the hills of the stormy North, And the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free, And the moss looks bright where my foot hath been. I have sent through the wood-paths a glowing sigh, To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain; Come forth, O ye children of gladness! come! Away from the dwellings of care-worn men, But ye!-ye are changed since ye met me last! Which speaks of a world where the flowers must die! Ye are changed, ye are changed!-and I see not here There were graceful heads, with their ringlets bright, There were steps that flew o'er the cowslip's head, As if for a banquet all earth were spread; There were voices that rang through the sapphire sky, And had not a sound of mortality! Are they gone? is their mirth from the mountains pass'd? -Ye have look'd on Death since ye met me last. I know whence the shadow comes o'er you now— They are gone from amongst you, the young and fair, Ye have lost the gleam of their shining hair! But I know of a land where there falls no blight I shall find them there, with their eyes of light! Where Death midst the blooms of the morn may dwell, I tarry no longer-farewell, farewell! |