Exquisitely strung within thee.
Then sing thou on, while I upon
The flight of thy pure Vision
Am borne aloft on pinions soft,
Perceiving no elision,
Thither whence Life and Toil and Strife
Are Pity and Derision.
Yet, that I might pursue the flight,
Purer and swifter travel
Past blame or praise, till Life’s Amaze