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     Autumn's faded earth around thee,
And its storms above!
     Evermore that turf lie lightly,
And, with future showers,
     O'er thy slumbers fresh and brightly
Blow the summer flowers!

In the locks thy forehead gracing,
     Not a silvery streak;
Nor a line of sorrow's tracing
     On thy fair young cheek;
Eyes of light and lips of roses,
     Such as Hylas wore,—
Over all that curtain closes,
     Which shall rise no more!

Will the vigil Love is keeping
     Round that grave of thine,
Mournfully, like Jazer weeping
     Over Sibmah's vine;1
Will the pleasant memories, swelling
     Gentle hearts, of thee,
In the spirit's distant dwelling
     All unheeded be?

If the spirit ever gazes,
     From its journeyings, back;
If the immortal ever traces
     O'er its mortal track;
Wilt thou not, O brother, meet us
     Sometimes on our way,
And, in hours of sadness, greet us
     As a spirit may?

1 “O vine of Sibmah! I will weep for thee with the weeping of Jazer!” Jeremiah XLVIII. 32.

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Hylas (1)
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