We all have hearts that shake alike
Beneath the arias of Fate's hand;
Although the cynics sneering stand,
These too the deathless powers strike.
A trembling lover's infinite trust,
To the last drop of doating blood,
Feels not alone the ocean flood
Of desperate grief, when dreams are dust.
The scornfullest souls, with mourning eyes,
Pant o'er again their ghostly ways;—
Dread night-paths, where were gleaming days
When life was lovelier than the skies!