This is the place. Stand still, my steed, Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy Past The forms that once have been. The Past and Present here unite Beneath Time's flowing tide, Like footprints hidden by a brook, But seen on either side. Here runs the highway to the town; There the green lane descends, Through which I walked to church with thee, O gentlest of my friends! Thy dress was like the lilies, And thy heart as pure as they: One of God's holy messengers Did walk with me that day. Through the closed blinds the golden sun Poured in a dusty beam, Like the celestial ladder seen By Jacob in his dream. Long was the good man's sermon, Yet it seemed not so to me; For he spake of Ruth the beautiful, And still I thought of thee. But now, alas! the place seems changed; Thou art no longer here: Part of the sunshine of the scene With thee did disappear. This memory brightens o'er the past, As when the sun, concealed Behind some cloud that near us hangs Shines on a distant field.