Have we not felt its breath in every word
Wont from thy lip as Hermon’s dew to shower?
Yes! in our hearts thy fervent thoughts have burn’d—
Of heaven they were, and thither have return’d.
How shall we mourn thee? With a lofty trust,
Our life’s immortal birthright from above!
With a glad faith, whose eye, to track the just,
Through shades and mysteries lifts a glance of love,
And yet can weep!—for nature thus deplores
The friend that leaves us, though for happier shores.