I

FIVE months ago, the stream did flow,

      The lilies bloomed along the edge;

And we were lingering to and fro,—

Where none will track thee in this snow,

      Along the stream, beside the hedge.

Ah, sweet, be free to love and go!

      For if I do not hear thy foot,

      The frozen river is as mute,—

      The flowers have dried down to the root;

      And why, since these be changed since May,

            Shouldst thou change less than they?