Hark! how the wind swept by!
The tempest’s voice comes rolling o’er the wave—
Hope of the sailor’s eye,
And maiden’s heart, blest mother! guide and save.
TO A DEPARTED SPIRIT.
From the bright stars, or from the viewless air,
Or from some world unreach’d by human thought,
Spirit, sweet spirit! if thy home be there,
And if thy visions with the past be fraught,
Answer me, answer me!