A form o’er which the hallowed veil
Of years bequeaths a lovelier light,
As when the mists of morning sail
Round some far isle to make it bright.
And as some reaper ’mid the grain,
Or binder resting o’er his sheaf,
Beheld her on the orient plain,
A passing vision, bright and brief;
And while he gazed let fall perchance
The sheaf or sickle from his hand—