With a soft halo, what is imaged thus—
But how much rests unbreathed, my faithful one!
What thou hast been to me! This bitter world!
This cold, unanswering world, that hath no voice
To greet the gentle spirit, that drives back
All birds of Eden, which would sojourn here
A little while—how have I turn’d away
From its keen, soulless air, and in thy heart
Found ever the sweet fountain of response
To quench my thirst for home!