Wouldst thou erase all records of delight
That make such visions bright?
Fill with forgetfulness, fill high!——yet stay—
’Tis from the past we shadow forth the land
Where smiles, long lost, again shall light our way,
And the soul’s friends be wreathed in one bright band.
Pour the sweet waters back on their own rill:
I must remember still.
‘For their sake, for the dead—whose image naught
May dim within the temple of my breast—