Spring sends young fishes to the sea,
Young fledglings to the air;
The jocund fishes frolic free,
The happier fledglings pair.
I wander in the month of May,
I see the world a-bloom,
But know its garlands overlay
The secrets of the tomb.
For while the robins build and sing,
To me the breath of flowers
As captives to the memory bring
The ghosts of vanished hours.
And 'mid these forms of dead delight
To mine own self I seem
A phantom wandering in the night,—
A woman in a dream.