With dangerous force electric, touch’d alone
To flash keen suffering from his heart to mine.
And yet, each day, his music sweeter swell’d.
Ere that, it may have lack’d in undertone,
The pleading pathos of half-utter’d grief:
Since then, I never hear it but it seems
As if the heavens had been bereaved of love,
And pour’d their sad complaint on earth beneath;
And I who listen to the sweetness of it
Can never tell if I should smile or weep