But thou hast gone, hast winged thy silent flight
O’er Death’s dim waters to the spirit-land;
Thy faith discerned its hills of purple light
Ere yet thy footstep left our mortal strand;
As closed the shadows on thy farewell track,
A whisper of thy bliss came floating back.
It came too soft and low for Echo’s breath,
And died, with tender transport in its tone;
But ere it ceased, it reached the ear of Death,
And shook the sable monarch on his throne;