To One in Paradise

61

Thou wast that all to me, love,
⁠For which my soul did pine—
A green isle in the sea, love,
⁠A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
⁠And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!
⁠Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
⁠A voice from out the Future cries,
«On! on!»—but o’er the Past
⁠(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me
⁠The light of Life is o’er!
⁠»No more—no more—no more—»
(Such language holds the solemn sea
⁠To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
⁠Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,
⁠And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
⁠And where thy footstep gleams—
In what ethereal dances,
⁠By what eternal streams.

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