Thou wast all that to me, love,
\n For which my soul did pine \u00e2\u20ac\u201d
\nA green isle in the sea, love,
\n A fountain and a shrine,
\nAll wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
\n And all the flowers were mine.
\n
\nAh, dream too bright to last !
\n Ah, starry Hope ! that didst arise
\nBut to be overcast !
\n A voice from out the Future cries,
\n„On ! on !“ \u00e2\u20ac\u201d but o’er the Past
\n (Dim gulf !) my spirit hovering lies
\nMute, motionless, aghast !<\/p>\n
For, alas ! alas ! with me
\n The light of Life is o’er !
\n „No more \u00e2\u20ac\u201d no more \u00e2\u20ac\u201d no more \u00e2\u20ac\u201d“
\n(Such language holds the solemn sea
\n To the sands upon the shore)
\nShall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
\n Or the stricken eagle soar !<\/p>\n
And all my days are trances,
\n And all my nightly dreams
\nAre where thy dark eye glances,
\n And where thy footstep gleams \u00e2\u20ac\u201d
\nIn what ethereal dances,
\n By what eternal streams.<\/p>\n