Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led.
Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.
What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?
We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.