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And, sometimes, with strange prevalence
He felt those dim enchantments float
Most soothingly upon his sense;
While faint in memory remote,
Brought down the heart knew not from whence,
The thought of heaven within him smote—
And many a yearning did commence
Vague and intense—
Fair part of that unknown disease
Of dull material love, whereby
The luring flower-semblances
Of earthliness and death would try
To bind his heart beyond release
To each fair mortal sympathy,
That Death at length might wholly seize
Him with all these.
And, surely, on some shining bed
Of flowers in full summer's gleam;
Or when the autumn time had shed
Its wealth of perfume and its dream
