With curious eye, unsated, strayed,
And down the winding stream of time,
On every changeful current played?
Or, lock’d in everlasting sleep.
Must we thy heart extinct deplore,
Thy fancy lost in darkness weep,
And sigh for her who feels no more?
Or, exiled to some humbler sphere,
In yonder wood-dove dost thou dwell,
And murmuring in the stranger’s ear,