The waters pass’d o’er me,—the spell was broke;
From the dream of the lonely isle I woke,
With a heart redeem’d from its selfish stain,
To mingle in scenes of the world again
With cheerful spirit—and rather share
The pains and sorrows which mortals bear,
Than dwell where no shade on my path is thrown,
’Mid fadeless flowers and bright gems, alone.
Philadelphia.