The world was sad, the garden was a wild, And man the hermit sigh'd — till woman smiled. - Thomas Campbell

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art. — Still seem, as to my childhood's sight, A midway station given, For happy spirits to alight, Betwixt the earth and heaven.

And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.

Absence! is not the soul torn by it From more than light, or life, or breath? 'Tis Lethe's gloom, but not its quiet,— The pain without the peace of death!