Then for a beam of joy to light
In memory’s sad and wakeful eye!
Or banish from the noon of night
Her dreams of deeper agony.
Shall Song its witching cadence roll?
Yea, even the tenderest air repeat,
That breathed when soul was knit to soul,
And heart to heart responsive beat?
What visions rise! to charm, to melt!
The lost, the loved, the dead are near!