On a sunny brae alone I lay

On a sunny brae alone I lay

One summer afternoon

It was the marriage time of May

With her young lover, June.

[From her mother's heart, seemed loath to part

That queen of bridal charms,

But her father smiled on the fairest child

He ever held in his arms.]

The trees did wave their plumy crests

The glad birds carolled clear

And I, of all the wedding guests

Was only sullen there

There was not one but wished to shun

My aspect void of cheer

[The very grey rocks, looking on,

Asked, "What do you here?"]

And I could utter no reply

In sooth, I did not know

Why I had brought a clouded eye

To greet the general glow

So resting on a heathy bank

I took my heart to me

And we together sadly sank

Into a reverie

We thought when winter comes again

Where will these bright things be?

All vanished like a vision vain

An unreal mockery

The birds that now so blithely sing

Through deserts frozen dry

Poor spectres of the perished spring

In famished troops will fly

And why should we be glad at all

The leaf is hardly green

Before a token of its fall

Is on the surface seen

Now whether it were really so

I never could be sure

But as in fit of peevish woe

I stretched me on the moor

A thousand thousand gleaming fires

Seemed kindling in the air

A thousand thousand silvery lyres

Resounded far and near

Methought the very breath I breathed

Was full of sparks divine

And all my heather couch was wreathed

By that celestial shine

And, while the wide earth echoing rung

To their strange minstrelsy

The little glittering spirits sung

Or seemed to sing to me

Dying memories

Oh mortal! mortal let them die

Let time and tears destroy

That we may overflow the sky

With universal joy

Let grief distract the sufferer's breast

Let night obscure his way

They hasten him to endless rest

And everlasting day

To thee the world is like a tomb

A desert's naked shore

To us in unimagined bloom

It brightens more and more

And could we lift the veil and give

One brief glimpse to thine eye

Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live

Because they live to die

The music ceased the noonday dream

Like dream of night withdrew

But fancy still will sometimes deem

Her fond creation true