When the enkindling spring upon the lea
Was quenched with water, and the rainy throng
Of clouds perpetual had drowned her song--
Still thou didst lift thy heart and float to me,
Over the mist, thy lonely melody!
O swell again the throat, and thrill the tongue,
And rouse, and ravish with thy pa**ion young,
The adoring air that drinks thine ecstasy!
She hides her beauty in the wavy shroud
Of April's swift and half-translucent cloud--
My love is lost in a more heavy shadow!
My love is buried in the arms of grief!
O send to her across the mourning meadow
That brighter sorrow thine--that music brief!