Thou wast that all 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 dark eye glances
And where thy footstep gleams-- 
In what ethereal dances, 
By what eternal streams.