Bliss?—which, too true, he hath well quaffed of late!
But, there!—may come what stealthy-footed Death
With bony claws to clutch away his breath!
And make him loveless to those eyes, alas!—
Fain must I speak that vision; thus it was:
"In sleep one plucked me some warm fleurs-de-lis,
Larger than those of earth; and I might see
Their woolly gold, loose, webby woven thro',—
Like fluffy flames spun,—gauzy with fine dew.
And 'asphodels!' I murmured; then, 'these sure