With dreamy whispers fill the immortal air;
If thought, here piled from many a jewel-heap,
Be treasure in that pensive land to keep;
If love, o’ersweeping change, and blight, and blast,
Find there the music of his home at last:
I ask’d, and I was answer’d. Full and high
Was that communion with eternity—
Too rich for aught so fleeting! Like a knell
Swept o’er my sense its closing words, “Farewell!
On earth we meet no more!” And all was gone—