Sure, earth now seems no place of graves. A wide
Gay, blooming Paradise! With moistened face,
She smiles, like God, upon this joyous world.
A new, wild burst of various harmony,
Salutes that Bow of charm—that orb of Glory.
Thou art the sun and rainbow to my heart,
And, as they fade from sight—but do not die—
But come to-morrow with their wonted charms,
Thou shalt not die—but gleam o'er me in heaven,
With none of all thy beauty, lost or less.