The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed；—— The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, Whose charms were broken if revealed. And days may pass in gay confusion, And nights in rosy² riot fly, While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion, The memory of the Past may die.

    But there are hours of lonely musing³, Such as in evening silence come, When, soft as birds their pinions⁴ closing, The heart's best feelings gather home. Then in our souls there seems to languish⁵ A tender grief that is not woe⁷； And thoughts that once wrung⁸ groans⁹ of anguish⁶ Now cause but some mild tears to flow.

    And feelings, once as strong as passions, Float softly back——a faded dream； Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations, The tale of others' sufferings seem. Oh！ when the heart is freshly bleeding, How longs it for that time to be, When, through the mist of years receding¹⁰, Its woes¹¹ but live in reverie！

    And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer¹², On evening shade and loneliness； And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer, Feel no untold¹³ and strange distress—— Only a deeper impulse given By lonely hour and darkened room, To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven Seeking a life and world to come.