There are rapturous melodies filling the heart,
With emotions which nothing beside could impart;
And yet, though this cumulous picture may show
The brightest of joys which ambition would know—
Though the heaven it opens is one of surprise,
All gorgeous with hope, and prismatic with dyes,
Satiety follows these transports of bliss,
And the heart asks a lodgment more real than this;
Like the dove, it will wander, and still, like the dove,
Come back, till it rests upon something to love.