The ear would cease to hear, the eye to see,
Though sights and sounds like these circled my bed,
Wakeless and heavy would my slumbers be:
Though the mild soften'd sun-light beam'd on me
(If a dull heap of bones retained my name,
That bleach'd or blacken'd 'mid the wasteful sea),
Its radiance all unseen, its golden beam
In vain through coral groves or emerald roofs might stream.
Yet dwells a spirit in this earthy frame
Which Oceans cannot quench nor Time destroy;—