And its fragments are sunk in the wave,
Though I feel that my soul is delivered
To pain—it shall not be its slave;
There is many a pang to pursue me;
They may crush—but they shall not contemn,
They may torture, but shall not subdue me,
’Tis of thee that I think—not of them.
“From the wreck of the past, which hath perished,
Thus much I at least may recall,
It hath taught me that what I most cherished