My task is done, my song hath cease, my theme | |
Has died into an echo; it is fit | |
30 | The spell should break of this protracted dream. |
The torch shall be extinguished with hath lit | |
My midnight lamp – and what is writ, is writ; | |
Would it were worthier! but I am not now | |
That which I have been – and my visions flit | |
35 | Less palpably before me – and the glow |
Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering, fain, and low. |
Farewell! a word that must e, and hath been – | |
A sound which makes us linger; – yet – farewell! | |
Ye! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene | |
40 | Which is his last, if in your memories dwell |
A thought which once was his, if on ye swell | |
A single recollection, not in vain | |
He wore his sandal shoon and scallop shell; | |
Farewell! with him alone may rest the pain, | |
45 | If such there were – with you, the moral of his strain. |
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