Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/36

And still the shadow of vain dreams shall fall
O'er thy mind's world, a daily darkening pall.
Fold, then, thy wounded wing, and sink subdued,
In cold and unrepining quietude!"

Then my soul yielded; spells of numbing breath
Crept o'er it heavy with a dew of death,
Its powers, like leaves before the night-rain, closing;
    And, as by conflict of wild sea-waves toss'd
    On the chill bosom of some desert coast,
Mutely and hopelessly I lay reposing.

            When silently it seem'd
            As if a soft mist gleam'd
Before my passive sight, and, slowly curling,
            To many a shape and hue
            Of vision'd beauty grew,
Like a wrought banner, fold by fold unfurling.
Oh! the rich scenes that o'er mine inward eye
    Unrolling, then swept by,