A Reverie.

O, tomb of the past     Where buried hopes lie,     In my visions I see     Thy phantoms pass by!     A form, long departed,         Before me appears;     A sweet voice, long silent,         Again greets my ears.     Fond memory dwells         On the things that have been;     And my eyes calmly gaze         On a long vanished scene;     A scene such as memory         Stores deep in the breast,     Which only appears         In a season of rest.     Once more we wander,         Her fair hand in mine;     Once more her promise,         "I'll ever be thine";     Once more the parting,         The shroud, and the pall,     The sods' hollow thump         As they coffinward fall.     The reverie ends--         All the fancies have flown;     And my sad, lonely heart,         Now seems doubly alone;     As the Ivy, whose tendrils         Reach longingly out,     Yet finds not an oak         To entwine them about.