Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Virginia WoodwardCloud1401 Youth
O
Past the dawn and the dew, where leaves of morning stirred,
And the heart, which followed on, said: “Though the bird be flown
Which sang in the dew and the dawn, the song is still my own.”
The tired heart looked back to the olive leaves of morn,
To the fair, lost fields again, and said: “I hear it! Oh, hark!”—
Though the bird were long since slain, though the song had died in the dark.