And all my soul is dewed and pearled 
With tears of poetry. 
 
The strong mysterious spell is cast 
To bind and to release ; 
To give the devils hope at last, 
To the unburied peace ; 
To gladden the reluctant past 
With silent harmonies. 
 
The song grows wilder now and strives 
All heaven to enchain, 
As who should grasp a thousand lives, 
And draw their breath again 
Into some cavern where he dives, 
A hell of grisly pain. 
 
And now behold !  the barren Cross 
Bursts out in vernal flowers ; 
The music weeps, as on the moss 
The summer’s kissing showers, 
And there sweep, as sweeps an albatross, 
The happy-hearted hours. 
 
93