The Lost
The fairest day that ever yet has shone
Will be when thou the day within shalt see:
The fairest rose that ever yet has blown
When thou the flower thou lookest on shall be
But thou art far away among Time's toys;
Thyself teh day thou lookest for in them
Thyself the flower that now thine eye enjoys
But wilted now thou hang'st upon thy stem
The bird thou hearest on teh budding tree
Thou hast made sing with thy forgotten voice;
But when it swells again to melody
The song is thine in which thou wilt rejoice
And thou new risen 'midst these wonders live
That now to them dost all thy substance give