‘Tis’ gone! I saw it drop from out my sky
Behind that rugged mountain high—
A star that bloomed for me from out the deep
And gave fair light to guide my feet.
Its beams so clear, transcending every light,
Wrought wonders in my dreary night.
It called in language never heard before.
And shall I never hear it more?
My dreams, long gone to dust, all lived again
Now freshly washed in April rain.
And where the winter snow had drifted deep
Fair flowers wakened from their sleep.

‘Twas night. But all the shadows dim and gray
Were harmless ghosts of yesterday.
Ten thousand other stars in brightness shone,
But in my heart one shone alone.
It traced an arc across my little sky.
I saw it bloom—I saw it die.
It is not dead! for still in memory
Where I may walk in liberty,
At night I often gaze up in the dark
And bid my weary spirit hark
That I might hear that voice again.
And feel once more the April rain,
And find the little flower-ghosts that grow
Where long has lain the winter snow.

‘Tis night again. My thoughts with shadows fill.
Ten thousand stars are shining still.
But one has traced an arc across my sky­
Ten thousand other stars may die.