Poetry Archives

Birds that like vanishing visions go winging,
  White, white in the flame of the sunset’s burning,
Fly with the wild spray the billows are flinging,
  Blend, blend with the nightfall, and fade, unreturning!

Fire of the heaven, whose splendor all-glowing
  Soon, soon shall end, and in darkness must perish;
Sea-bird and flame-wreath and foam lightly blowing;—
  Soon, soon tho’ we lose you, your beauty we cherish.

Visions may vanish, the sweetest, the dearest;
  Hush’d, hush’d be the voice of love’s echo replying;
Spirits may leave us that clung to us nearest:—
  Love, love, only love dwells with us undying!