Lo! as a dove when up she springs
⁠To bear thro' Heaven a tale of woe,
⁠Some dolorous message knit below
The wild pulsation of her wings;

Like her I go; I cannot stay;
⁠I leave this mortal ark behind,
⁠A weight of nerves without a mind,
And leave the cliffs, and haste away

O'er ocean-mirrors rounded large,
⁠And reach the glow of southern skies,
⁠And see the sails at distance rise,
And linger weeping on the marge,

And saying; 'Comes he thus, my friend?
⁠Is this the end of all my care?'
⁠And circle moaning in the air:
'Is this the end? Is this the end?'