All old fair things are in their places,
I count them over, and miss but one;
The April flowers are running races,
The green world stretches its arms to the sun;
The nuptial dance of the days is begun--
The same young stars in the same old skies;
And all that was lost again is won--
But where have they hidden those great eyes?
All have come back--dogwood and daisies--
All things ripple and riot and run;
Swallow and swallow in aery mazes,
A fairy frolic of fire and fun;
The same old enchanted web is spun,
With diamond dews for the same old flies;
Yet all is new, spite of Solomon--
But where have they hidden those great eyes?
Lovely as love are the new-born faces--
God knows they are fair to look upon;
And my heart goes out to the young embraces,
To the flight of the young to the young;
But, Time, what is it that thou hast done?
For my heart ’mid all the blossom cries:
“Roses are many, the Rose is gone--
Ah! where have they hidden those great eyes?”