Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/203



is the light that to the eye Heaven's holy message gave, Tinging the retina with rays From sky, and earth, and wave?

Where is the sound that to the soul Mysterious passage wrought, And strangely made the moving lip A harp-string for the thought?

All fled! all lost! Not even the rose An odour leaves behind, That, like a broken reed, might trace The tablet of the mind.

That mind! It struggles with its fate, The anxious conflict, see! As if through Bastile-bars it sought Communion with the free.

Yet still its prison-robe it wears Without a prisoner's pain, For happy childhood's beaming sun Glows in each bounding vein.