And breathe thy thoughts of flame,
The conscious soul, conceives them, too,
And breathes and burns the same;—
And when, in fancy, thou dost soar,
'Tis like Niag'ra's thundering roar.
When thou dost tell of living joys
Far up in heaven above,
The rapturous music of thy voice,
Is like the Voice of Love—
The entranced spirit flits away