Only the casket left! The jewel gone,
Whose noble presence filled these stately halls,
And made this spot a shrine, where pilgrims came
Stranger and friend—to bend in reverence
Before the great pure soul that knew no guile;
To listen to the wise and gracious words
That fell from lips whose rare, exquisite smile
Gave tender beauty to the grand, grave face.
Upon these pictured walls we see thy peers
Poet, and saint, and sage, painter and king,
A glorious band; they shine upon us still;
Still gleam in marble the enchanting forms
Whereon thy artist eye delighted dwelt;
Thy favorite Psyche droops her matchless face,
Listening, methinks, for the beloved voice
Which nevermore on earth shall sound her praise.
All these remain—the beautiful, the brave,
The gifted silent ones,—but thou art gone !
Fair is the world that smiles upon us now;
Blue are the skies of June, balmy the air
That soothes with touches soft the weary brow.