Where man’s trace hath been that so we pine!
Bear me up, to grow in thought less lonely,
Even at nature’s deepest, loneliest shrine!
Wild, and mighty, and mysterious singers!
At whose tone my heart within me burns;
Bear me where the last red sunbeam lingers,
Where the waters have their secret urns!
There to commune with a loftier spirit
Than the troubling shadows of regret;
There the wings of freedom to inherit,