Poems

Front matter

Immoral io Dmis Jf latttut lltax <£ar%. A Committee of friends and admirers of the late Denis Flo rence Mac Carthy has been formed for the purpose of perpetuat ing in a fitting manner the memory of this distinguished Irish poet. Among the contributors to the Memorial Fund are Cardinal Newman, Cardinal Mac Cabe, Cardinal Mac Closky ; Most Rev. Dr. M'Gettigan, Most Rev. Dr. Croke, Most Rev. Dr. Butler, and many of the Irish Clergy ; Lord O'Hagan, the Marquis of Ripon, Archbishop Trench, Judge O'Hagan, Sir. C. G. Duffy, Aubrey de Vere, Sir Samuel Ferguson, and Dr. J. K. Ingram. Subscriptions will -be received by the Lord Mayor, Mansion House, Dublin ; by Dr. James Brady, 38 Harcourt-st ; Mr. W. L. Joynt, D. L., 43 Merrion-square ; Rev. C. P. Meehan, SS. Michael and John's ; or by any Member of the Committee. POEMS. POEMS BT DENIS FLORENCE MAC CARTHY DUBLIN M. H. GILL AND SON, 50 UPPER SACKVILLE STREET M. H. GILL AND SON, PRINTERS, DUBLIN,

Preface

. — ♦ — This volume contains, besides the poems published in 1850 and 1857,* the odes written for the cen tenary celebrations in honour of O'Connell in 1875, and of Moore in 1879. To these are added several sonnets and miscellaneous poems now first collected, and the episode of " Ferdiah" translated from the Tain Bo Chuailgne. Born in Dublin,t May 26th, 1817, my father, while still very young, showed a decided taste for literature. The course of his boyish reading is indicated in his " Lament." Some verses from his pen, headed "My Wishes," appeared in the * "Ballads, Poems, and Lyrics, Original and Translated :" Dublin, 1850. "The Bell- Founder, and other Poems," " Un derglimpses, and other Poems :" London, 1857. A few pieces which seemed not to be of abiding interest have been omitted. t At 24 Lower Sackville-street. The house, with others adjoining, was pulled down several years ago. Their site is now occupied by the Imperial Hotel. VI

PREFACE.

. Dublin Satirist, April 12th, 1834. This was, as far as I can discover, the earliest of his writings published. To the journal just mentioned he frequently contributed, both in prose and verse, during the next two years. The following are some of the titles : — " The Greenwood Hill ;" "Songs of other Days" (Belshazzar's Feast — Thoughts in the Holy Land — Thoughts of the Past); "Life," "Death;" "Fables" (The Zephyr and the Sensitive Plant — The Tulip and the Rose — The Bee and the Rose ;) " Songs of Birds " (Nightingale — Eagle — Phœnix — Fire-fly) ; " Songs of the Winds," &c. On October 14th, 1843, his first contribution (" Proclamation Songs," No. 1) appeared in the Dublin Nation. " Here is a song by a new recruit," wrote Mr., now Sir, Charles Gavan Duffy, "which we should give in our leading columns if they were not preoccupied."

In the next number I find "The Battle of Clontarf," with this editorial note : " ' Desmond' is entitled to be enrolled in our national brigade." " A Dream" soon folio .vs ; and at intervals, between this date and 18-19 —besides many other poems — all the National songs and most of the Ballads

PREFACE.

. VII included in this volume. In April, 1847, " The Bell-Founder" and "The Foray of Con O'Donnell" appeared in the University Magazine, in which "Waiting for the May," "The Bridal of the Year," and "The Voyage of Saint Brendan," were subsequently published (in January and May, 1848). Meanwhde, in 1846, the year in which he was called to the bar, he edited the " Poets and Dramatists of Ireland," with an introduction, which evinced considerable reading, on the early religion and literature of the Irish people. In the same year he also edited the " Book of Irish Ballads," to which he prefixed an introduction on ballad poetry. This volume was republished with additions and a preface in 1869. In 1853, the poems afterwards published under the title of " Under glimpses" were chiefly written.* * The subjective view of nature developed in these Poems has been censured as remote from human interest.

Yet a critic of deep insight, George Gilfillan, declares his special admira tion for "the joyous, sunny, lark-like carols on May, almost worthy of Shelley, and such delicate, tender, Moore-like trifles (shall I call them?) as All Fools' Day. The whole," he adds, "is full of a beautiful poetic spirit, and rich resources both of fancy and language." I may be permitted to trans scribe here an extract from some unpublished comments by

PREFACE.

. The plays of Calderon — thoroughly national in form and matter — have met with but scant ap preciation from foreigners. Yet we find his genius recognized in unexpected quarters, Goethe and Shelley uniting with Augustus Schlegel and Archbishop Trench to pay him homage. My father was, I think, first led to the study of Calderon by Shelley's glowing eulogy of the poet (" Essays," vol. h., p. 274, and elsewhere). The Sir William Rowan Hamilton on another poem of the same class. His remarks are interesting in themselves, as coming from one illustrious as a man of science, and, at the same time, a true poet— a combination which may hereafter become more frequent, since already in the vast regions of space and time brought within human ken, imagination strives hard to keep pace with established fact.

In a manuscript volume now in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin, he writes, under date, May, 1848 : — " The University Magazine for the present month contains a poem which delights one, entitled 'The Bridal of the Year.' It is signed ' t). Vni. C.,' as is also a shorter, but almost a sweeter piece immediately following it, and headed, 'Summer Longings.' Sir William goes through the whole poem, copying and criticising every stanza, and concludes as follows : — "After a very pretty ninth stanza respecting the 'fairy phantoms' in the poet's 'glorious visions seen,' which the author conceives to ' follow the poet's steps beneath the

PREFACE.

. IX first of his translations was published in 1853, the morning's beam,' he burst into rapture at the approach of the Bride herself — " ' Bright as are the planets seven — With her glances She advances, For her azure eyes are heaven ! And her robes are sunbeams woven, And her beauteous bridesmaids are Hopes and wishes — Dreams delicious — Joys from some serener star, And heavenly-hued Illusions gleaming from afar !' ' ' Her eyes are heaven, her robes are sunbeams, and with these physical aspects of the May, how well does the author of this ode (for such, surely, we may term the poem, so rich in lyrical enthusiasm and varied melody) conceive the combina tion as bridesmaids, as companions to the bride ; of those mental feelings, those new buddings of hope in the heart which the season is fitted to awaken.

The azure eyes glitter back to ours, for the planets shine upon us from the lovely summer night ; but lovelier still are those 'dreams delicious, joys from some serener star,' which at the same sweet season float down invisibly, and win their entrance to our souls. The image of a bridal, is happily and naturally kept before us in the re maining stanzas of this poem, which well deserve to be copied here, in continuation of these notes — the former for its cheer fulness, the latter for its sweetness. I wish that I knew the author, or even that I were acquainted with his name. — Since ascertained to be D. F. Mac Carthy." X

PREFACE.

. last twenty years later. They consist* of fifteen complete plays, which I believe to be the largest amount of translated verse by any one author, that has ever appeared in English. Most of it is in the difficult assonant or vowel rhyme, hardly ever previously attempted in our language. This may be a fitting place to cite a few testimonies as to the execution of the work. Longfellow, whom I have myself heard speak of the "Autos" in a way that showed how deeply he had studied them in the original, wrote, in 1857 : " You are doing this work admirably, and seem to gain new * The following are the titles and dates of publication : In 1853, "The Constant Prince," " The Secret in Words," " The Physician of his own Honour," "Love after Death," "The Purgatory of St. Patrick," "The Scarf and the Flower."

In 1861, "The Greatest Enchantment," "The Sorceries of Sin," " Devotion of the Cross." In 1867, "Bel shazzar's Feast," " The Divine Philothea" (with Essays from the" German of Lorinser, and the Spanish of Gonzales Pedroso). In 1870, " Chrysanthus and Daria, the Two Lovers of Heaven." In 1873, " The Wonder-working Magician, "" Life is a Dream," "The Purgatory of St. Patrick" (a new trans lation entirely in the assonant metre). Introductions and notes are added to all these plays. Another, "Daybreak in Copacabana, " was finished a few months before his death, and has not been published.

PREFACE.

. XI strength and sweetness as you go on. It seems as if Calderon himself were behind you whispering and suggesting. And what better work could you do in your bright hours or in your dark hours than just this, which seems to have been put pro videntially into your hands." Again, in 1862 : "Your new work in the vast and flowery fields of Calderon is, I think, admirable, and presents the old Spanish dramatist before the English reader in a very attractive light. Particularly in the most poetical passages you are excellent ; as, for instance, in the fine description of the gerfalcon and the heron in 'El Mayor Encanto.' I hope you mean to add more and more, so as to make the translation as nearly complete as a single life will permit. It seems rather appalling to under take the whole of so voluminous a writer ; never theless, I hope you will do it.

Having proved that you can, perhaps you ought to do it. This may be your appointed work. It is a noble one."* Ticknor (" History of Spanish Literature," new edition, vol. hi., p. 461) writes thus : " Calderon • When the author of " Evangeline" visited Europe for the last time in 1868, they met in Italy. The sonnets at p. 174 refer to this occasion.

PREFACE.

. is a poet who, whenever he is translated, should have his very excesses and extravagances, both in thought and manner, fully reproduced, in order to give a faithful idea of what is grandest and most distinctive in his genius. Mr. MacCarthy has done this, I conceive, to a degree which I had previously supposed impossible. Nothing, I think, in the English language will give us so true an impression of what is most characteristic of the Spanish drama ; perhaps I ought to say, of what is most characteristic of Spanish poetry generally." Another eminent Hispaniologist (Mr. C. F. Brad ford, of Boston) has spoken of the work in similar terms. His labours did not pass without recogni tion from the great dramatist's countrymen. He was elected a member of the Real Academia some years ago, and in 1881 this learned body presented him with the medal struck in commemoration of Calderon's bicentenary, "in token of their gratitude and their appreciation of his translations of the great poet's works."

In 1855, at the request of the Marchioness of Donegal, my father wrote the ode which was re cited at the inauguration of the statue of her son, the Earl of Belfast. About the same time, his

PREFACE.

. XIII Lectures on Poetry were delivered at the Catholic University at the desire of Cardinal Newman. The Lectures on the Poets of Spain, and on the Dramatists of the Sixteenth Century, were de livered a few years later. In 1862 he published a curious bibliographical treatise on the " Memoires of the Marquis de Vfflars." In 1864 the ill health of some of his family necessitated his leaving his home near Kill in ey Hill* to reside on the Continent. In 1872, " Shelley's Early Life" was published in London, where he had settled, attracted by the facilities for research which its great libraries offered. This biography gives an amusing account of the young poet's visit to Dublin in 1812, and some new details of his ad ventures and writings at this period. My father's admiration for Shelley was of long standing.

At the age of seventeen he wrote some lines to the poet's memory, which appeared in the Dublin Satirist already mentioned, and an elaborate review of his poetry in an early number of the Nation. I have before alluded to Shelley's influence in directing his attention to Calderon. The centenary odes in •The "Campo de Estio," described in the lines "Not Known."

PREFACE.

. honour of O'Connell and Moore were written, in 1875 and 1879, at the request of the committees which had charge of these celebrations. He returned to Ireland a few months before his death, which took place at Blackrock, near Dublin, on April 7th*, in the present year. His nature was most sensitive, but though it was his lot to suffer many sorrows, I never heard a complaint or an unkind word from his lips. From what has been said it will be evident that this volume contains only a part of his poetical works, it having been found impossible to include the humorous pieces, parodies, and epigrams, without some acquaintance with which an im perfect idea would be formed of his genius. The same may be said of his numerous trans lations from various languages (exclusive of Calderon's plays). Of those published in 1850, " The Romance of Maleca," " Saint George's Knight," "The Christmas of the Foreign Child," and others have been frequently reprinted.

He has since rendered from the Spanish poems by • A fortnight after that of Longfellow. His attached friend and early associate, Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee, perished by assassination at Ottawa on the same day and month fourteen years ago.

PREFACE.

. XV Juan de Pedraza, Antonio de Trueba, Garcilaso de la Vega, Gongora and " Fernan Caballero," whom he visited when in Spain shortly before her death, and whose prose story, "The Two Mule teers," he has also translated. To these must be added, besides several shorter ballads from Duran's Romancero General, " The Poem of the Cid," " The Romance of Gayferos," and " The Infanta of France." The last is a metrical tale of the fourteenth or fifteenth century, present ing analogies with the " Thousand and One Nights," and probably drawn from an Oriental source. His translations from the Latin, chiefly of mediæval hymns, are also numerous. In inserting the poem of "Ferdiah" I was influenced by its subject as well as by the wish of friends. A few extracts appeared in a magazine several years ago, and it was afterwards com pleted without any view to publication.

It follows the present Irish text* as closely as the * Edited by his friend Dr. W. K. Sullivan, President of Queen's College, Cork, who, I may add, has in preparation a paper on the "Voyage of St. Brendan," and on other ancient Irish accounts of voyages, of which he finds an explanation in Keltic mythology. The paper will appear in the Transac tions of the American Geographical Society.

PREFACE.

. laws of metre will allow. Since these pages were in the printer's hands Mr. Aubrey de Vere has given to the world his treatment of the same theme,* adorning as usual all that he touches. As he well says : " It is not in the form of translation that an ancient Irish tale of any consider able length admits of being rendered in poetry. What is needed is to select from the original such portions as are at once the most essential to the story, and the most characteristic, reproducing them in a condensed form, and taking care that the necessary additions bring out the idea, and contain nothing that is not in the spirit of the original." (Preface, p. vii.) The "Tale of Troy Divine" owes its form, and we may never know how much of its tenderness and grace, to its Alexandrian editor. However, the present version may, from its very literalness, have an in terest for some readers.

Many of the earlier poems here collected have been admirably rendered into French by the late M. Ernest de Chatelain.f The Moore Centenary * "The Combat at the Ford" being Fragment III. of his " Legends of Ireland's Heroic Age." London, 1882. t In his " Beautis de la Poesie Anglaise, Rayons et Reflets," &c.

PREFACE.

. XVII Ode has been translated into Latin by the Rev, M. J. Blacker, M.A. My thanks are due to the Rev. Matthew Russell, S. J., for his kind assistance in preparing this book for the press, and to the Publishers for the accu racy and speed with which it has been produced. I cannot let pass this opportunity of expressing my gratitude for the self-sacrificing labours of the committee formed at the suggestion of Mr. William Lane Joynt, D.L., to honour my father's memory, and for the generous response his friends have made to their appeal.* JOHN MAC CARTHY BlaclcrocJc, Dublin, August, 1882. * The first meeting was held on April 15th, at the Mansion House, Dublin, under the presidency of the Lord Mayor, the Right Hon. Charles Dawson, M.P. CONTENTS. ♦- PAGE Preface ....... v Ballads and Lyeics. Waiting for the May ..... 1 Devotion . . .... 2 The Seasons of the Heart .... 4 Kate of Kenmare ..... 5 A Lament . . - . . .7 The Bridal of the Year . . . . .11 The Vale of Shanganah . . .

" . 17 The Pillar Towers of Ireland . . . .19 Over the Sea . . . . . . 21 Oh! had I the Wings of a Bird, . . . .23 Love's Language ...... 25 The Fireside ...... 26 The Banished Spirit's Song .... 28 Remembrance ... ... 29 The Clan of Mac Caura ..... 30 The Window 34 Autumn Fears ...... 35 Fatal Gifts 36 Sweet May ...... 37 Ferdiah: an Episode from the Tain Bo C'huailgne . 39 The Votaoe of St. Brendan . , , .83 XX CONTENTS. PACK The Foray of Con O'Donnell . . . 106 The Bell-Founder . . .... 124 Alice and Una . . . . .140 National Poems and Songs. Advance ! ...... 154 Remonstrance . . . . . - 157 Ireland's Vow ...... 159 A Dream ...... 160 The Price of Freedom . . . . .162 The Voice and the Pen . . . . .164 "Cease to do Evil— Learn to do Well" . . . 165 The Living Land ..... 167 The Dead Tribune . . . . .169 A Mystery .... 171 Sonnets.

"The History of Dublin" . . . .174 To Henry Wadsworth Longfellow . . . 174 To Kenelm Henry Digby . . . .175 To Ethna ...... 176 TJnderglimpses. The Arraying . . . . .177 The Search ...... 180 The Tidings . . . . . .181 Welcome May ...... 183 The Meeting of the Flowers .... 185 The Progress of the Rose . . . .193 CONTENTS. XXI Underglimpses — (continued). PAGE The Bath of the Streams . . . .200 The Flowers of the Tropics . . . .203 The Year King . . • . . .205 The Awakening . . . . .211 The Resurrection . . ... . 213 The First of the Angels . . . .214 Spirit Voices ...... 216 Centenary Odes. O'Connell (August 6th, 1875) . . . .219 Moore (May 28th, 1879) . . . .229 Miscellaneous Poems. The Spirit of the Snow . . . . .239 To the Bay of Dublin . . . . .243 ToEthna ...... 245 " Not Known " . • . . . .246 The Lay Missioner ..... 248 The Spirit of the Ideal . . . . .251 Recollections ...... 256 Dolores ...... 260 Lost and Found ...... 260 Spring Flowers from Ireland .... 262 To the Memory of Father Prout . . .295 Those Shandon Bells . . ■ .266 Youth and Age 267 To June . . . . . . .267 Sunny Days in Winter ....

CONTENTS. Miscellaneous Poems — (continued). PAGE The Birth of the Spring . . . .270 All Fools' Day ..... 272 Darrynane ...... 275 A Shamrock from the Irish Shore . . .277 Italian Myrtles ..... 280 The Irish Emigrant's Mother . . . .281 The Rain : a Song of Peace .... llama. BALLADS AND LYEICS. WAITING FOR THE MAY. Ah ! my heart is weary waiting, Waiting for the May — Waiting for the pleasant rambles, Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles, With the woodbine alternating, Scent the dewy way. Ah ! my heart is weary waiting, Waiting for the May. Ah ! my heart is sick with longing Longing for the May — Longing to escape from study, To the young face fair and ruddy, And the thousand charms belonging To the summer's day. Ah ! my heart is sick with longing, Longing for the May. Ah ! my heart is sore with sighing, Sighing for the May — Sighing for their sure returning, "When the summer beams are burning, Hopes and flowers that, dead or dying, All the winter lay.

Ah ! my heart is sore with sighing, Sighing for the May. Ah ! my heart is pained with throbbing: Throbbing for the May — Throbbing for the sea-side billows, Or the water-wooing wdlows, Where in laughing and in sobbing Glide the streams away. Ah ! my heart, my heart is throbbing, Throbbing for the May. Waiting sad, dejected, weary, Waiting for the May. Spring goes by with wasted warnings, Moon-lit evenings, sun-bright mornings Summer comes, yet dark and dreary Life still ebbs away : Man is ever weary, weary, Waiting for the May ! DEVOTION. When I wander by the ocean, When I view its wild commotion, Then the spirit of devotion Cometh near ; And it fills my brain and bosom, Like a fear ! I fear its booming thunder, Its terror and its wonder, Its icy waves, that sunder Heart from heart ; And the white host that lies under Makes me start.

Its clashing and its clangour Proclaim the Godhead's anger — I shudder, and with languor Turn away ; No joyance fills my bosom For that day. DEVOTION. When I wander through the vaUey When the evening zephyr dallies, And the light expiring rallies In the stream, That spirit comes and glads me, Like a dream. The blue smoke upward curling, The sdver streamlet purling, The meadow wildflowers furling Their leaflets to repose : AU woo me from the world And its woes. The evening bell that bringeth A truce to toil outringeth, No sweetest bhd that singeth Half so sweet, Not even the lark that springeth From my feet. Then see I God beside me, The sheltering trees that hide me, The mountains that divide me From the sea : All prove how kind a Father He can be. Beneath the sweet moon shining The cattle are reclining, No murmur of repining Soundeth sad : AU feel the present Godhead, And are glad.

With mute, unvoiced cons essings, To the Giver of ad blessings I kneel, and with caressings Press the sod, And thank my Lord and Father, And my God. THE SEASONS OF THE HEART. The different hues that deck the earth All in our bosoms have their birth ; 'Tis not in blue or sunny skies, 'Tis in the heart the summer lies ! The earth is bright if that be glad, Dark is the earth if that be sad : And thus I feel each weary day — 'Tis winter aU when thou'rt away ! In vain, upon her emerald car, Comes Spring, " the maiden from afar," And scatters o'er the woods and fields The liberal gifts that nature yields ; In vain the buds begin to grow, In vain the crocus gdds the snow ; I feel no joy though earth be gay — 'Tis whiter all when thou'rt away ! And when the Summer, like a bride, Comes down to earth in blushing pride, And from that union sweet are born The fragrant flowers and waving corn, I hear the hum of birds and bees, I view the hills and streams and trees, Yet vain the thousand charms of May — 'Tis winter all when thou'rt away !

And when the Autumn crowns the year, And ripened hangs the golden ear, And luscious fruits of ruddy hue The bending boughs are glancing through, When yellow leaves from sheltered nooks Come forth and try the mountain brooks, Even then I feel, as there I stray — 'Tis winter all when thou'rt away ! And when the winter comes at length, With swaggering gait and giant strength, KATE OF KENMARE. 5 And with his strong arms in a trice Binds up the streams in chains of ice, What need I sigh for pleasures gone, The twilight eve, the rosy dawn ? My heart is changed as much as they — 'Tis winter aU when thou'rt away ! Even now, when Summer lends the scene Its brightest gold, its purest green, Whene'er I climb the mountain's breast, With softestmoss and heath-flowers dress'd, When now I hear the breeze that stirs The golden bells that deck the furze, Alas ! unprized they pass away — 'Tis winter all when thou'rt away !

But when thou comest back once more, Though dark clouds hang and loud winds roar, And mists obscure the nearest hills, And dark and turbid roU the rdls, Such pleasures then my breast shall know, That summer's sun shall round me glow ; Then through the gloom shall gleam the May — 'Tis winter all when thou'rt away ! KATE OF KENMARE. Oh ! many bright eyes full of goodness and gladness, Where the pure soul looks out, and the heart loves to shine, And many cheeks pale with the soft hue of sadness, Have I worshipped in sdence and felt them divine ! But Hope in its gleamings, or Love in its dream in gs, Ne'er fashioned a being so faultless and fair As the hly-cheeked beauty, the rose of the Roughty,* The fawn of the valley, sweet Kate of Kenmare ! * The river of Kenmare. It was all but a moment, her radiant existence, Her presence, her absence, all crowded on me ; But time has not ages and earth has not distance To sever, sweet vision, my spirit from thee !

Again am I straying where children are playing, Bright is the sunshine and balmy the air, Mountains are heathy, and there do I see thee, Sweet fawn of the vaUey, young Kate of Kenmare ! Thine arbutus beareth fuU many a cluster Of white waxen blossoms like ldies in ah ; But, oh ! thy pale cheek hath a deUcate lustre No blossoms can rival, no lily doth wear ; To that cheek softly flushing, thy lip brightly blushing, Oh ! what are the berries that bright tree doth bear ? Peerless in beauty, that rose of the Roughty, That fawn of the valley, sweet Kate of Kenmare ! 0 Beauty ! some speU from kind Nature thou bearest, Some magic of tone or enchantment of eye, That hearts that are hardest, from forms that are fairest, Receive such impressions as never can die ! The foot of the fairy, though lightsome and airy,* Can stamp on the hard rock the shape it doth wear ; Art cannot trace it, nor ages efface it : And such are thy glances, sweet Kate of Kenmare !

To him who far travels how sad is the f eeling, How the light of his mind is o'ershadowed and dim, When the scenes he most loves, like a river's soft stealing, All fade as a vision and vanish from him ! * Near the town is the " Fairy Rock," on which the marks of several feet are deeply impressed. It derives its name from the popular belief that these are the work of fairies. A LAMENT. 7 Yet he bears from each far and a flower for that garland That memory weaves of the bright and the fair ; Whde this sigh I am breathing my garland is wreath- And the rose of that garland is Kate of Kenmare ! In lonely Lough Quinlan in summer's soft hours, Fair islands are floating that move with the tide, Which, sterde at first, are soon covered with flowers, And thus o'er the bright waters fairy-Uke glide. Thus the mind the most vacant is quickly awakened, And the heart bears a harvest that late was so bare, Of him who in roving finds objects of loving, Like the fawn of the valley, sweet Kate of Kenmare!

Sweet Kate of Kenmare ! though I ne'er may behold thee, Though the pride and the joy of another thou be, Though strange dps may praise thee, and strange arms enfold thee, A blessing, dear Kate, be on them and on thee ! One f eeUng I cherish that never can perish — One talisman proof to the dark wizard care — The fervent and dutiful love of the Beautiful, Of which thou art a type, gentle Kate of Kenmare ! A LAMENT. The dream is over, The vision has flown ; Dead leaves are lying Where roses have blown ; Wither'd and strown Are the hopes I cherished, — All hath perished But grief alone. My heart was a garden Where fresh leaves grew Flowers there were many, And weeds a few ; Cold winds blew, And the frosts came thither, For flowers wdl wither, And weeds renew ! Youth's bright palace Is overthrown, With its diamond sceptre And golden throne ; As a time-worn stone Its turrets are humbled, — All hath crumbled But grief alone !