The Wayback Machine -






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 oer the Past
      (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me
      The light of Life is oer!
      �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 grey eye glances,
      And where thy footstep gleams
In what ethereal dances,
      By what eternal streams.