Thou golden fragment of the sweetest dream,
That ever smiled beside the gates of morn,
And left enraptured Beauty half forlorn
And half entranced. Still for thy vanished gleam
That spirit-maiden weeps. On her refulgent stream
No more the tinted bark is lightly borne,
But frail as thought by streaming phantoms torn,
She waits forever thy returning beam.
A golden dream of art's divinity
And held bright Beauty's jeweled anadem;
Of music breathing immortality
Till stonéd silence falls a carven gem.
And but a fragment! Ah! couldst thou have sated
A bursting heart, what worlds had been created!