And oft so unexpectedly, we start
To see them rise again as from the grave.
Oh wondrous is our being! every thing
That e’er hath passed before us: every thought
That flitted cloud-like o’er our realm of mind;
And every feeling that hath urged the heart,
E’en with a slight vibration, seems to leave
A certain impress stamped upon the soul
As with a seal eternal: sendeth forth
A living substance, from the which is built