Lines Written in Richmond Park

Fair one, were you but here!
The Autumn flames away,
And pensive in the antlered shade I stray.
The Autumn flames away, his end is near.
I linger where deposed and fall'n he lies,
Prankt in his last poor tattered braveries,
And think what brightness would enhance the Day,
Were you — were you but here!
Though hushed the woodlands, though sedate the skies,
Though dank the leaves and sere,
The stored sunlight in your hair and eyes
Would vernalize
November, and renew the aged year,
Fair one! were you but here.
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