Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/251



is it that before mine eyes, While gazing on thy mien, All my past years of life arise, As in a mirror seen? What spell within thee hath been shrined, To image back my own deep mind?

Even as a song of other times, Can trouble memory's springs; Even as a sound of vesper-chimes, Can wake departed things; Even as a scent of vernal flowers Hath records fraught with vanished hours;