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



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.