As when the siren voices held in thrall,
In days of old, the wanderers by sea,
Enchanting them with wondrous melody,
So did thy spirit to our spirits call,
And keep them spell-bound in new realms of thought;
And even as the song, divinely sweet,
With undertone of sadness still is fraught,
So, in thy voice did joy with woe compete.
Thyself, a shining light, thou knew'st the shade;
But, from the silence of the soul's recess,
The lamp of thy great genius shone afar:
The weary worker in his loneliness
Descried the ray, and dreamed it could not fade.
To him thou art as an immortal star!
