A faded phantom, and no more?
Oh, not like thee would I remain,
But o’er the earth my ashes strew,
And in some rising bud regain
The freshness that my childhood knew.
But has thy soul, O maid, so long
Around this mournful relic dwelt?
Or burst away with pinion strong,
And at the foot of Mercy knelt?
Or has it in some distant clime,