Classic Poem

Our spells shall keep her floating, yet unchanged;
The nautilus shall push his purple sail
Across her happy shadow; in the gale
The storm-blown land-bird, which too far hath ranged,
Shall trust her look, and perch, and close his eye:
Around her shall the graceful proas move,
And fling their garland gifts of awe and love;
And, when the tropic midnight veils the sky,
On fair phosphoric seas thy child shall rest,
And morn shall find her, when the day comes back,
Laid, as in Heaven's own river, in the track
Of sunrise o'er the waters—to suggest
In symbol, that her soul is pure and blest,
And floats from light to light, and cannot die.