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Their thoughts, that strove with time, and change, and anguish, For some high place where faith her wing might rest, Are burning here; a flame that may not languish, Still pointing upward to that bright hill's crest!

Their grief, the veiled infinity exploring For treasures lost, is here;—their boundless love Its mighty streams of gentleness outpouring On all things round, and clasping all above.

And the bright beings, their own heart's creations, Bright, yet all human, here are breathing still; Conflicts, and agonies, and exultations Are here, and victories of prevailing will!

Listen, oh! listen, let their high words cheer thee! Their swan-like music ringing through all woes, Let my voice bring their holy influence near thee, The Elysian air of their divine repose!