Of daily lot and station,
In uttering such clear dreams as touch
Doubt unto Adoration,
So shall the Balm—oh winsome charm!—
Of her rhapsodic madness
Keep blithe and young the World’s wild tongue;
Its trick of gloom and sadness
Banish away from the light of day
With an unquestioning Gladness.
The spiritous reign of Song’s domain