And every dew-drop paints a bow.
And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts; Or all the same as if he had not been?
He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.
From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent.