64 
THE PARTING OF SUMMER. 
Thou’rt singing thy last melodies 
In every wood and dell. 
But ere the golden sunset 
Of thy latest lingering day, 
Oh ! tell me, o’er this chequer’d earth. 
How hast thou pass’d away 1 
Brightly, sweet summer ! brightly 
Thine hours have floated by, 
To the joyous birds of the woodland boughs. 
The rangers of the sky. 
And brightly in the forests. 
To the wild deer wandering free ; 
And brightly,’midst the garden flowers 
To the happy murmuring bee; 
But how to human bosoms, 
With all their hopes and fears, 
And thoughts that make them eagle-wings, 
To pierce the unborn years ? 
Sweet summer! to the captive 
Thou hast flown in burning dreams 
Of the woods, with all their whispering 
leaves, 
And the blue rejoicing streams ;— 
