Amid the murmurous coverts, now are mute

As dreams of faded happiness, and life

Seems calmly slumb'ring in the arms of death.

The far waves alone are rocking in unrest,

With moonlight flashing o'er them, but their sound

[Pg 15]

Dies in their own wild bosom, like a song

Murmuring in the spirit of a man.

Thus is a poet's soul!—around it hangs

The darkness of this world's reality,

Its cares and struggles and necessities;

But in its firmament for ever shines

The starlight of divine imaginings,

Shedding upon the waves of restless feeling,

And aspirations for the undefined,

The glory of a cloudless hemisphere.

O Stars! that gaze upon me from on high,

Like angels from the gates of Paradise,

That weave your myriads in a golden chain

To bind creation with the Beautiful,

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