Chapter LX

The while the infant group, from noon to night,
Passed here and there through all that cultured glade;
And sighed and wept, by turns, or sobbed outright,
As to its charms their last farewell they bade;
“Here father labored--here he slept till light
Renewed his toils,” they often thought or said;
And still the springing tears suffuse their eyes,
They dash them off--but still their sorrows rise.