With the keen vigil of a life intense.
I watch’d, an answer from the winds to wring,
I listen’d, if perchance the stream might bring
Token from worlds afar; I taught one sound
Unto a thousand echoes—one profound
Imploring accent to the tomb, the sky—
One prayer to night—“Awake! appear! reply!”
Hast thou been told that from the viewless bourne
The dark way never hath allow’d return?
That all, which tears can move, with life is fled—