One hour of my soul seem’d infinity!
And she, that voiceless below me slept,
Flow’d not her song from a heart that wept?
—O Love and Song! though of heaven your powers,
Dark is your fate in this world of ours.
Yet, ere I turn’d from that silent place,
Or ceased from watching thy sunny race,
Thou, even thou, on those glancing wings,
Didst waft me visions of brighter things!
Thou that dost image the freed soul’s birth,