Vain is regret for moments flitted,
Like stars into the night ;
E'en though young Love came hither with them,
And with them took his flight.
The fond heart yields to his dominion
With joy and artless mirth—
But the light which floats about his pinion
Is not a thing of earth.

When thy frail hand can rein the tempest,
And hush in silent night ;
When the lightning flame thou'st taught to linger,
And check'd its rapid flight ;
Then may'st thou curb young passion coming ;
Then may'st resist his sway ;
O then thou may'st prevent his roaming,
And, charm'd—he here will stay.

How dull a dream of life without him—
He comes, and earth is heaven !
For there's a robe of beams about him,
To vanquish souls 'twas given.
And joy dwells under his dominion ;
There hope is link'd to mirth—
Yet the light which floats about his pinion
Is not a thing of earth.