Hung on the shower that fronts the golden West

Oh! that the memories which survive us here Were half so lovely as these wings of thine! Pure relics of a blameless life, that shine Now thou art gone.

How like the leper, with his own sad cry Enforcing his own solitude, it tolls! That lonely bell set in the rushing shoals, To warn us from the place of jeopardy!

The little bee returns with evening's gloom, To join her comrades in the braided hive, Where, housed beside their mighty honey-comb, They dream their polity shall long survive.

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.

So All is diff’rent, and yet All is One.

What great Effects from slender Causes flow!