Her sweet form sealing in their sepulchre.
And yet one breath of love could rouse the dead.
All day the subtle spirit haunts me now,
Thrill’d through and through to sound her sweetness forth.”
“Then let it sound!” he said. “Rare rest it were,
Were all one’s recreation freshen’d thus;
And slumber serenaded by the Muse.”
“One’s recreation! slumber!” I exclaim’d;
“Is mind a deep that wells with most of thought
When void the most? I tell you none can draw