Their thoughts, that strove with time, and change, and anguish,
For some high place where faith her wing might rest,
Are burning here—a flame that may not languish—
Still pointing upward to that bright hill’s crest!
Their grief, the veil’d infinity exploring
For treasures lost, is here;—their boundless love,
Its mighty streams of gentleness outpouring
On all things round, and clasping all above.
And the bright beings, their own heart’s creations,
Bright, yet all human, here are breathing still;