"I have lost my dewdrop", cries the flower to the morning sky that lost all its stars

While Memory watches o'er the sad review
Of joys that faded like the morning dew.

Let me weep
My youth and its brave hopes, all dead and gone,
In tears which burn.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.

Passing thus with time away,
The sweet gifts of youth decay ;
Fleet their blooms, thus one by one,
Till their very form is gone ;
Memory left but to declare
How beautiful and sweet they were!
In the first blue noon of Spring,
Who can think on withering?

Say, doth she weep for very wantonness?
Or is it that she dimly doth foresee
Across her youth the joys grow less and less,
The burden of the days that are to be:
Autumn and withered leaves and vanity
And winter bringing end in barrenness.

A flower may fade before 'tis noon,
And I this day may lose my breath.

Sad that our finest aspiration
Our freshest dreams and meditations,
In swift succession should decay,
Like Autumn leaves that rot away.

They lose the day in expectation of the night, and the night in fear of the dawn.

Now the leaves are falling fast, Nurse's flowers will not last; Nurses to their graves are gone, And the prams go rolling on.

Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour,
I 've seen my fondest hopes decay;
I never loved a tree or flower
But 't was the first to fade away.
I never nurs'd a dear gazelle,
To glad me with its soft black eye,
But when it came to know me well
And love me, it was sure to die.

The glow has gone forever
And our dreams have turned to dust;
I don't know how I can go on,
And yet I know I must.

And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs!