And petrified to immortality!
A holy presence seems to hover round
The deep, perpetual loveliness, as crowned
With angel radiance, and plumed for flight,
Thy pinioned sandals spurn the flowerless ground,
Striving to gain that far Olympian height
Towards which in rapturous awe upturns thy longing sight.

"Why are thy parted lips so dumb and cold?
Else with my eager arms about thee thrown
And folded in thy soft embrace, had rolled
The Lethean tide of love, in which, unknown
And all unheeded in their state, had flown
The future and the past, merged in that sea
The present, whose far deeps are felt alone
By the pale diver, reaching breathlessly
Through pearled and coral caves concealed from mortal eye.

"Oh, shape divine! Such madd'ning grace must have
A soul, a consciousness of love and life
Though tombed in pallor, with no epitaph
But silence! What mighty spell with power rife
Can wake thee into Being's passion strife?
Yet if there be such, let it rest unsought;
For every boon thou couldst from breath derive
I would not wrest from thee that higher lot,
The need of deathlessness, thou pale, embodied thought!

"Great poet souls and people yet unborn
Shall lay their speechless homage at thy feet,