Now whirling off in shadowy sets
Where urged guitars[2] and castonets.[2]
Anon, this music rose and fell,
As if, because, all fill’d so well,
So laden down with sweets before,
The languid air could hold no more.
“Ah, how could it or I?” I thought;
“This land of lasting spring is fraught
With charms that pale by living truth
The brightest dreams that lured my youth.”