Lines

    The light in the dust lies dead；

    When the cloud is scatter'd

    The rainbow's glory is shed；

    When the lute¹ is broken

    Sweet tones are remember'd not

    When the lips have spoken

    Loved accents are soon forgot.

    As music and splendour

    Survive not the lamp and the lute

    The heart's echoes render

    No song when the spirit is mute—

    No song but sad dirges²

    Like the wind through a ruin'd cell

    Or the mournful surges

    That ring the dead seaman's knell³.

    When hearts have once mingled⁴

    Love first leaves the well-built nest；

    The weak one is singled

    To endure what it once possest.

    O Love who bewailest

    The frailty⁵ of all things here

    Why choose you the frailest⁶

    For your cradle your home and your bier？

    Its passions will rock thee

    As the storms rock the ravens⁷ on high：

    Bright reason will mock thee

    Like the sun from a wintry sky.

    From thy nest every rafter

    Will rot and thine eagle home

    Leave thee naked to laughter

    When leaves fall and cold winds come.