Beloved! amid the earnest woes

        That crowd around my earthly path —

(Drear path, alas! where grows

Not even one lonely rose) —

        My soul at least a solace hath

In dreams of thee, and therein knows

An Eden of bland repose.

And thus thy memory is to me

        Like some enchanted far-off isle

In some tumultous sea —

Some ocean throbbing far and free

        With storms – but where meanwhile

Serenest skies continually

        Just o’er that one bright island smile.