LXXV.
But hold—I rave—
I know, I know—no matter, so would you.—
But find your soul’s ideal, and you would find,
If common-sense be reason, you would rave,
Till you forgot that common-sense could be—
Though I forget it not. My tale is told.
Why talk I more? I know one household now
All radiant through its mistress! Where she dwells
A sweet content pervades the very air,