When happy, do we pause and say--"Lo, thy felicity, my soul ?" No: happiness seldom seems happiness, except when looked back upon from woes.

A flowery landscape, you must come out of, to behold.
Sped the hours, the days, the one brief moment of our joys.

Fairy bower in the fair lagoon, scene of sylvan ease and heart's repose,-- Oh, Yillah, Yillah! All the woods repeat the sound, the wild, wild woods of my wild soul.

Yillah! Yillah! cry the small strange voices in me, and evermore, and far and deep, they echo on.
Days passed.

When one morning I found the arbor vacant.