Where Is He!

His way was on the waters deep,
For lands, far distant and unknown;
His heart could feel, his eye could weep,
For sufferings other than his own;
And he could seem what others be,
Yet only seem: but where is he?
I wander through this grove of love —
The valley lone — and climb the hill,
Where he was wont in life to rove;
And all looks calm and pleasant still;
And there, his bower and cypress tree —
That tree of gloom — but where is he?
The sun above shines now as bright
Through heaven's blue depths, as once it shone;
The clouds roll beautiful in light,
Sweeping around the Eternal's throne;
The singing birds are full of glee,
Their songs are sweet: but where is he'!
The mirror of the moon on high —
That bright lake — seems as softly calm;
The stars as richly throng the sky;
The night winds breathe their fragrant balm;
Rolls on as bright that deep blue sea
Its mighty waves: but where is he?
Here is the wreath he twined; but now
This rosy wreath is twined in vain;
Tears, nor the bosom's warmest glow,
Will ever give it life again! —
All this is dark and strange to me,
And still I ask: oh, where is he"!
I touch his harp; the magic strings,
The loveliest sounds of music pour —
But sadly wild, as if the wings
Of Death's dark angel swept them o'er;
The chords are lulled! It may not be!
And spirits whisper: Where is he?
His way was on the waters deep;
His corse is on an unknown shore;
He sleeps a long and dreamless sleep,
And we shall see his face no more.
'T is a sad tale! he died for me!
Oh, God! enough! — but where is he?