Flashes of light from garden, bower and shrine —
All forms and sounds of loveliness had been
To eye and ear as messengers divine;
And, to each glorious sight, and joyous tone,
Answered a breathing melody of her own.
But now her voice was hushed, and all unheard
The many tones that roused it; for a strain
Of richer song her spirit’s depths had stirred;
As if some angel harp that there had lain,
Untouched as yet, were thrilled in every chord,