El'anore.

I. The forest flowers are faded all, The winds complain, the snow-flakes fall, El'anore! I turn to thee, as to a bower: - Thou breathest beauty like a flower, Thou smilest like a happy hour, El'anore! II. I turn to thee. I bless afar Thy name, which is my guiding-star, El'anore! And yet, ah God! when thou art here I faint, I hold my breath for fear. Art thou some phantom wandering near, El'anore? III. Oh, take me to thy bosom fair; Oh, cover me with thy golden hair, El'anore! There let me lie when I am dead, Those morning beams about me spread, The glory of thy face o'erhead, El'anore!