But if our lives, though of transient duration,

Are filled with some work in humanity's name,

Some uplifting effort, or self-immolation,

Our memories shall live in the temples of Fame.

 

A Reverie. 

O, tomb of the past

Where buried hopes lie,

In my visions I see

Thy phantoms pass by!

A form, long departed,

Before me appears;

A sweet voice, long silent,

Again greets my ears.

Fond memory dwells

On the things that have been;

And my eyes calmly gaze

On a long vanished scene;

A scene such as memory

Stores deep in the breast,

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