So blend thee in the happy, restful whole.
If memory be sorrow, then forget;
Refuse to know, if knowing bring thee dole;
If wish and will can naught but pain beget,
Await in rest a fairer world, - then wake not yet.
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Faded her song, and the poet forgot
That past had been, or future e'er would be.
Slumbered the plants, the dew fell not,
The very brooks drank of the lotos-tree,
Began the breeze to whisper victory.
But while the poet slept, a spirit came,
And every flower deep inspired his breath;
It seemed a strange new sense without a name
Had freed each blushing hue from debt of death.
No murmured song was in the flowing air,
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