Time sets his footprints on our little Earth, And, walk he ne'er so softly, some sweet thing Falls 'neath each foot-fall, crush'd amid its mirth, Tracking the course of Life's short wandering,...
It was too sweet--such dreams do ever fade When Sorrow shakes the sleeper from his rest-- Life still to me hath been a masquerade, Woe in Mirth's wildest, gayest mantle drest,...
Through the calm and silent air Floats the tolling funeral bell, Swooning over hill and dell, Heavy laden with despair; Mute between each muffled stroke, Sad as though a dead voice spoke,...
Far, far away, over land and sea, When Winter comes with his cold, cold breath, And chills the flowers to the sleep of death, Far, far away over land and sea, Like a band of spirits the Passage-birds flee....