From the wreck of my past, which hath perish'd, ย ย Thus much I at least may recall, It hath taught me that which I most cherish'd ย ย Deserved to be dearest of all: In the desert a fountain is springing, ย ย In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, ย ย Which speaks to my spirit of thee. Lord Byron