John Albee (1833–1915)

AS two birds journeying from different lands

Rest in the green-leafed tree, then hold their way,

Each for some other home where fate commands,

So stayed, so passed two souls one blissful day.

Now hope and fear are dead—nor all, nor quite,

For oft in dreams returns to me more sweet,

Like distant music in a summer night,

The love that bound me captive at her feet.

All passions, all desires return no more;

The beauty and the worth in her I loved

Remade the world, and opened wide the door

To realms of thought with calmer beauty moved.