What shall I sing thee? Shall I tell

Of that bright hour, remembered well

As tho' it shone but yesterday,

When loitering idly in the ray

Of a spring sun I heard o'er-head,

My name as by some spirit said,

And, looking up, saw two bright eyes

  Above me from a casement shine,

Dazzling my mind with such surprise

  As they, who sail beyond the Line,

Feel when new stars above them rise;—

And it was thine, the voice that spoke,

  Like Ariel's, in the mid-air then;

And thine the eye whose lustre broke—

  Never to be forgot again!

What shall I sing thee? Shall I weave

A song of that sweet summer-eve,

(Summer, of which the sunniest part

Was that we, each, had in the heart,)

When thou and I, and one like thee,

  In life and beauty, to the sound

Of our own breathless minstrelsy.

  Danced till the sunlight faded round,

Ourselves the whole ideal Ball,

Lights, music, company, and all?

Oh, 'tis not in the languid strain

  Of lute like mine, whose day is past,

To call up even a dream again

  Of the fresh light those moments cast.