In every tangle of my hair,
But could not stir—for there was I,
In more than rapture’s reverie.
And was I yet in this green world,
Was yet my spirit here!
Was I safe home, that had been hurl’d
Out o’er the farthest sphere!
Oh—had I time to strive for Heaven!
Or, was I dreaming still!
Would God this riddle’s end were given!