I.
O’er crag and o’er dune, through the vale and the grove,
Adown the wild rivulet swept,
From fountains unseen, in the caverns above,
Where Winter his night-revels kept;
And loudly it laughed as it eddied and whirled,
Surging round in its gladsome career;
For Spring had come forth with her banners unfurled,
Giving joy, giving joy to the year.
II.
And I saw, as the broad summer sun rose on high,
And poured down his flood-tide of light,
That the rivulet shrank till you scarce could descry
Its glimmer and wonted delight.
Then the winds, as they swept by its desolate shore,
Broke mournfully on the lone ear;
For the flowers that bloomed on its banks were no more—
In the dust they lay withered and sere.