After so drear a storm how can ye shine?
O smiling world of many-hued delights,
How canst thou 'round our sad hearts still entwine
The accustomed wreaths of pleasure? How, O Day,
Wakest thou so full of beauty? Twilight deep,
How diest thou so tranquilly away?
And how, O Night, bring'st thou the sphere of sleep?
For she is gone from us,—gone, lost for ever,—
In the wild billows swallowed up and lost,—
Gone, full of love, life, hope, and high endeavor,