Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 20 1827.pdf/17

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They hold no heart-communion,
    They find no voice in song,
They dimly follow far from earth
    The grave's departed throng.

Wild is their course, and lonely,
    And fruitless in man's breast;
They come and go, and leave no trace
    Of their mysterious quest.

Yet surely must their wanderings
    At length be like thy way;
Their shadows, as thy waters lost,
    In one bright flood of day!F. H.