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 footsteps gleams --
In what ethereal dances,
   By what eternal streams.