This sordid earth, and, as a lark doth soar,
Ascend into the realms of truth and love,
Whence once the Spirit came in form of dove!
Thither, oh! thither would it wing its flight—
For ever "take its rest," there where there comes no night!
MATIN.
The gleam of light that passes o'er
The world ere dawn of day;
That, faintly flashing, shines before