And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,How could I seek the empty world again?

The Night Is Darkening Round MeThe night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me, And I cannot, cannot go. The giant trees are bending Their bare boughs weighed with snow; The storm is fast descending, And yet I cannot go. Clouds beyond clouds above me, Wastes beyond wastes below; But nothing drear can move me; I will not, cannot go.

I’ll walk, but not in old heroic traces,And not in paths of high morality,And not among the half-distinguished faces,The clouded forms of long-past history.I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading:It vexes me to choose another guide:Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding;Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side.

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,'Tis all that I implore -In life and death, a chainless soul,With courage to endure.

And I am weary of the anguishIncreasing winters bear;Weary to watch the spirit languishThrough years of dead despair.So, if a tear, when thou art dying,Should haply fall from me,It is but that my soul is sighing,To go and rest with thee.

Oh! dreadful is the check—intense the agony—When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again;The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.

Juega con la flor perfumada,La rama tierna del joven árbol,Y deja mis sentimientos humanosEn su propio cauce inquieto.

To-day, I will seek not the shadowy region;Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear;And visions rising, legion after legion,Bring the unreal world too strangely near.