To the Same Released

How flows thy being now?--like some glad hymn
One strain of solemn rapture?--doth thine eye
Wander through tears of voiceless feeling dim
O’er the crown’d Alps, that, midst the upper sky,
Sleep in the sunlight of thine Italy?
Or is thy gaze of reverent love profound
Unto these dear, parental faces bound,
Which, with their silvery hair, so oft glanced by,
Haunting thy prison-dreams? Where’er thou art,
Blessings be shed upon thine inmost heart!
Joy, from kind looks, blue skies, and flowery sod,
For that pure voice of thoughtful wisdom sent
Forth from thy cell, in sweetness eloquent
Of love to man, and quenchless trust in God!