Fathomless, abysses dread
Opened—then the vision fled.
Morning came: becalmed, the boat
Rested on the purple flood:
"What had happened?" every throat
Shrieked the question: "was there—Blood?"
Naught had happened! On the swell
We had slumbered, oh, so well!
AN AVOWAL OF LOVE
(during which, however, the poet fell into a pit).
Oh marvel! there he flies