No phantom from thy mists may I evoke,
No more my prow or sail the waves provoke,
Where sleeps my happy island of the blest.
Lo, while I gaze, like the responsive swell
Of some great yearning heart, the billows rise,
Till, in wild tumult leaping to the skies,
They toss the beauteous wrecks I loved so well,
Resistless through the rending barriers roll
And sob through all the caverns of my soul.