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THE SOUTH-WIND brings | |
| Life, sunshine, and desire, | |
| And on every mount and meadow | |
| Breathes aromatic fire; | |
| But over the dead he has no power, | 5 |
| The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; | |
| And, looking over the hills, I mourn | |
| The darling who shall not return…. | |
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| And whither now, my truant wise and sweet, | |
| O, whither tend thy feet? | 10 |
| I had the right, few days ago, | |
| Thy steps to watch, thy place to know; | |
| How have I forfeited the right? | |
| Hast thou forgot me in a new delight?… | |
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| From the window I look out | 15 |
| To mark thy beautiful parade, | |
| Stately marching in cap and coat | |
| To some tune by fairies played;— | |
| A music heard by thee alone | |
| To works as noble led thee on. | 20 |
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| Now Love and Pride, alas! in vain, | |
| Up and down their glances strain. | |
| The painted sled stands where it stood; | |
| The kennel by the corded wood; | |
| The gathered sticks to stanch the wall | 25 |
| Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall; | |
| The ominous hole he dug in the sand, | |
| And childhood’s castles built or planned; | |
| His daily haunts I well discern,— | |
| The poultry-yard, the shed, the barn,— | 30 |
| And every inch of garden ground | |
| Paced by the blessed feet around, | |
| From the roadside to the brook | |
| Whereinto he loved to look. | |
| Step the meek birds where erst they ranged; | 35 |
| The wintry garden lies unchanged; | |
| The brook into the stream runs on; | |
| But the deep-eyed boy is gone. | |
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