Some creature-beauty, dwelling inly bright;
Or if a history, a dream, I keep
To eyes apparent, treasured in the heart,
Whereof fermenteth some uneasy part,
That now, perchance, inclineth me to weep;
I long, I seek, and find not any guide,
Nor whither, of myself have wit to know,
Yet vague perceive a presence point the way;
Such life I lead since thee my looks espied,
From bitter change to sweet, from aye to no;