The night-jar now has ceased to mourn,
the dawn comes on apace, I seize my hoe and close the gates,
leaving the burying-p lace ; But not till sunbeams fleck the wall
does slumber soothe my care^ The cold rain pattering on the pane
as I lie shivering there. You wonder that with flowing tears
my youthful cheek is wet; They partly rise from angry thoughts^
and partly from regret. Regret that spring comes suddenly;
anger // cannot last. No sound to herald its approach,
or warn us that 'tis past. Last slight within the garden
sad songs were faintly heard, Sung, as I knew, by spirits,
spirits of flower and bird. We cannot keep them here with us,
these much-loved birds andflowers y They sing but for a seasons space,
and bloom a few short hours. Ah! would that I on feathered wing
might soar aloft and fly, With flower spirits I would seek
the confines of the sky. But high in air What grave is there ? l No, give me an embroidered bag
wherein to lay their charms, And Mother Earth, pure Mother Earth,
shall hide them in her arms. Thus those sweet forms which spotless came
shall spotless go again, Nor pass besmirched with mud and filth
along some noisome drain.
��These two lines are short in the original.
�� �
