Sorrow no more for the faded rose,

Nor of the yellow lily despair.

These, as we see them, are but their shows.

They are elsewhere.

Tis but their shadow lives in our light.

As we see them (...)

They live more truly in our delight

Than in their forms.

The beauty they had was never lost,

It moved away

From the present hour and the form once tossed

Into space and day.

But the undying essence of the (...)

The rose that faded from yesterday

Is where yesterday is.

I shall have again the flower and the day,

The self and the bliss.