Now to the river bank the priests are come:
The bark is ready to receive its freight:
Let some prepare her place therein, and some
Embark the litter with its slender weight:
       The rest stand by in state,
     And sing her a safe passage over;
   While she is oar’d across to her new home,
Into the arms of her expectant lover.

And thou, O lover, that art on the watch,
Where, on the banks of the forgetful streams,
The pale indifferent ghosts wander, and snatch
The sweeter moments of their broken dreams,—
       Thou, when the torchlight gleams,
     When thou shalt see the slow procession,
   And when thine ears the fitful music catch,
Rejoice, for thou art near to thy possession.