Behold! Thy truant name be called Amidst the still-lingering crowd. Come! Be ye not here? In childhood, That which were so solemnly vowed: By rights, serenity enwalled Upon soil of lyric greenwood. Wherefore be ye not here, with me? What scandal hath arose? Eschew Thy slow intent and words misgave— From whence came laughter? Paint the scene Whereby away this house you flew. How shall I lonesome winter stave?