Ode: Tell me, thou soul of her I love

Tell me, thou soul of her I love,
Ah ! tell me, whither art thou fled ?
To what delightful world above,
Appointed for the happy dead ?

Or dost thou free at pleasure roam,
And sometimes share thy lover's woe
Where, void of thee, his cheerless home
Can now, alas ! no comfort know ?

Oh ! if thou hoverest round my walk,
While, under every well-known tree,
I to thy fancied shadow talk,
And every tear is full of thee —

Should then the weary eye of grief
Beside some sympathetic stream
In slumber find a short relief,
Oh, visit thou my soothing dream !