In the cold silence of the stranger’s heart;
A fix’d immortal shadow stands between
My spirit and life’s fast-receding scene;
A gift hath sever’d me from human ties,
A power is gone from all earth’s melodies,
Which never may return: their chords are broken,
The music of another land hath spoken—
No after-sound is sweet! This weary thirst!
And I have heard celestial fountains burst!
What here shall quench it?