Dissolvingly and slowly: soon
From thy rose-red lips my name
Floweth. And then, as in a swoon,
With dinning sounds my ears are rife.
My tremulous tongue faltereth.
I lose my colour, I lose my breath,
I drink the cup of a costly death
Brimmed with delirious draughts of warmest life!
—Tennyson (Eleänore).
Ellinor brought so weary a body, so weary a mind to bed that night, that almost as soon as her head touched the pillow she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.