O dearer far than light and life are dear.
What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?
Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.