Lost in their song is the dream of Earth's dree,
Companion dear! and they're singing for thee.
Beautiful! beautiful!—thou shalt feel
Their eloquent music from thee steal
Those darkling thoughts, that should mournfully twine
With the light, the life, and the joy—now thine.
Beautiful! beautiful!—each glad bell
Sings to thy soul—'Thou hast borne thee well:
The toil, the strife, and the tempest are o'er,
And thy rest is won—on the Deathless Shore.'