They are with the scents, by Summer's breath
Borne from a rose now shed,
With the words from lips long sealed in death—
For ever fled!
The sea-shell, of its native deep
A thrilling moan retains;
But earth and air no record keep
Of parted strains.
And all the memories, all the dreams
They woke in floating by,
The tender thoughts, th' Elysian gleams—
Could these too die?
They died!—as on the water's breast
The ripple melts away,
When the breeze that stirred it sinks to rest,
So perished they!
Mysterious in their sudden birth,
And mournful in their close;
Passing, and finding not on earth
Aim or repose.
Whence were they?—like the breath of flowers,
Why thus to come and go?—
A long, long journey must be ours,
Ere this we know!
Page:Felicia Hemans in Friendship's Offering 1829.pdf/3
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