Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/260



We colour Heaven with our own human thoughts, Our vain aspirings, fond remembrances; Our passionate love, that seems unto itself An Immortality.

thou of Heaven?—what dreams are thine? Fair child, fair gladsome child? With eyes that like the dew-drop shine, And bounding footsteps wild!

Tell me what hues the immortal shore Can wear, my Bird! to thee? Ere yet one shadow hath pass'd o'er   Thy glance and spirit free?