"And we must act our parts so here,
That, when we reach a loftier sphere,
Our memories shall not shed a tear.
"With such a one, if fair or brown—
Gracing a cottage, or a throne—
Soul, I could live and love unknown!
"Yes, gazing upward in her eye,
Scan what was passing in its sky,
And swoon, and dream, and, dreaming, die."
"There is none such," my spirit sighed.
"Seek glory: woo her for thy bride.
And perish, and be deified!"
"Why, Soul," I said, "the thought of fame,
Of winning an exalted name,
Might woo me, but my heart would blame
"The coldness that compelled me forth.
No: somewhere on this lower earth
The angel that I seek has birth.
"If not, I will so worship here
Her type, that I shall joy, not fear—
To meet her in her holier sphere."