But most they wondered at the charm she gave
To common things, that seemed as from the grave
Of mouldering custom suddenly to rise
To fresh and fairer life; a life so new,
And yet so real, — to the heart so true,—
They gazed upon the world as if a thousand ties,
Till now to all unknown, between them daily grew.

The life was hers, — from that mysterious cell
Whence sends the soul her self-diffusing spell,
Whose once embodied breath for ever is:
Though ruthless Time, with whom no creature strives,
At every step treads out a thousand lives,
Yet brings his wasting march no doom to this,—
Like heritage with air, that aye for all survives.