Classic Poem

IN A VISION OF LAURA, HE LAMENTS THE EMPTINESS OF THE WORLD WITHOUT HER

O happy Spirit that, so sweetly beaming,
Didst bend on me those more than starlike glances,
And sigh soft words whereof each accent dances
To its own music, its own echoes streaming:
Now I behold thee, with a pure flame gleaming,
Over the grass and violet's purple lances
Glide like an angel to my dazzled fancies,
Alive, a-light and vivid beyond seeming!
Yet to the Sun and Source thou art returned,
Leaving to mortal dissolution here
That lovely veil which fate conferred on thee.
Love at thy passing passed with many a tear;
Courtesy died; the sun no longer burned;
And Death seemed then our true felicity.