Once, when the sun-burst flew

its banner above broad seas and eastern hills,

my casement knew

that morning in her wondrous isle of youth distils

perpetual balm, and tidings trumpeted

of Eden air

winsome and quick, round many a wilding grace, unwed,

clad only in glad hair,

bade fancy soar

far and aloft along that limitless ecstasy

of crystal, towards some shore

where life were crown’d amidst a halcyon sea.

Now — desolate, despairful (lamentable retreat!

wreck’d wheels and spars!),

streaming from irresistible defeat

the broken field of stars:

and all our hope they bore, the appointed word

and that unbroken song

that should resolve our suffering dark in peace, deferr’d

— how long?