My soul from all it prized before;
That misery called me to explore
A new-born life, whose stony joy
Might calm the pangs of sorrow o'er,
Might shrine their memory, not destroy.
'I rose, and drew the curtains back
To gaze upon the starless waste,
And image on that midnight wrack
The path on which I longed to haste,
From storm to storm continual cast,