To fill the questing vision came,

Came down the breadths of blossoming foam

To give to loveliness a name,

To happiness a home!

Yet thought toward passion moved with dread,

Like one who, hurrying to be wed,

Steps, darkling, on the dead.

Far down we saw mute wavelets leap

Feebly as though remembering sleep;

The wheeling sea-birds proudly sway

In glory o'er the opal bay;—

But at the heart the world grew grey;

Some joy had perished from the day;

Some love was grieving far away.

No voice stirred through the haunted hill

Touched with the morn's inviolate gleam.

All fearfully wild heart and will

Drank rapture in the face of ill!

Our spirits thrilled to answer thrill,

And trembled in their dream.

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