As mist-wreathed waves in grandeur pass on unto their goal!
Ye phantoms on Life's ocean! how like the mist ye seem,
As backward turneth memory across Life's glow and gleam!
For ye figure forth Life's pleasures, its cares, its tears and pain,
And recall with all their glamour Youth's joyous dreams again!
While still the fateful presence glides on across the wave,
Nor lifts its veil of mystery until we reach the grave!
O speak! is it endeavor, or is it blighted faith?
Or is it but the passing of pain—this silent wraith?
We know not, oh, we know not here, for o'er Life's restless sea