Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.

And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?

All experience is an arch wherethro' gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.

And what delights can equal those That stir the spirit's inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?

Never, oh! never, nothing will die; The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.

God and Nature met in light.

Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good, Or propagate again her loathèd kind, Thronging the cells of the diseased mind, Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood, Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?