⁠And every spirit's folded bloom
⁠Thro' all its intervital gloom
In some long trance should slumber on;

Unconscious of the sliding hour,
⁠Bare of the body, might it last,
⁠And silent traces of the past
Be all the colour of the flower:

So then were nothing lost to man;
⁠So that still garden of the souls
⁠In many a figured leaf enrolls
The total world since life began:

And love will last as pure and whole
⁠As when he loved me here in Time,
⁠And at the spiritual prime
Rewaken with the dawning soul.