To One in Paradise

THOU wast all that to me, love,  
 For which my soul did pine:  
A green isle in the sea, love,  
 A fountain and a shrine  
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,        
 And all the flowers were mine.  
Ah, dream too bright to last!  
 Ah, starry Hope, that didst arise  
But to be overcast!  
 A voice from out the Future cries,      
“On! on!”—but o’er the Past  
 (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies  
Mute, motionless, aghast.  
For, alas! alas! with me  
 The light of Life is o’er!          
 No more—no more—no more—  
(Such language holds the solemn sea  
 To the sands upon the shore)  
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,  
 Or the stricken eagle soar.          
And all my days are trances,  
 And all my nightly dreams  
Are where thy gray eye glances,  
 And where thy footstep gleams—  
In what ethereal dances,          
 By what eternal streams.
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