One draught, kind fairy! from that fountain deep,
To lay the phantoms of a haunted breast;
And lone affections, which are griefs, to steep
In the cool honey-dews of dreamless rest;
And from the soul the lightning-marks to lave—
One draught of that sweet wave!
Yet, mortal! pause! Within thy mind is laid
Wealth, gather’d long and slowly; thoughts divine
Heap that full treasure-house; and thou hast made
The gems of many a spirit’s ocean thine;—