Full-eager from its formless Paradise
To realms of Death and Night!”
Theo sat breathless, a flush of expectation staining her dark skin, as the first page was laid aside and the second came to view. Before the remaining stanzas were finished, her heart was beating visibly through the thin morning dress, as her lips fashioned soundlessly the lines she had memorized at the second reading:
“O Love! more wanton e’en
Than Birth or Hope or bold Ambition, thine
To lift the quivering soul to heights divine,
To mad the brain with Amor’s poisoned wine,
To spread thy wonder-sheen
“O’er eyes that erst could see!
Thy promises, how fair, how full of bliss!