So, by the lamp
When tardy Evening still'd the din of toil,
He read of Him who came to save the lost,
Who touch'd the blind, and they receiv'd their sight,
The dead young man, and raised him from his bier,
Reproved the raging Sea, and it was still:
Deeds that his boyhood heard unheedingly.
But here, in this strange solitude of pain
With different voice they spake. And as he read,
The fragrance of the mignionette he loved,