In cold and unrepining quietude!”
Then my soul yielded: spells of numbing breath
Crept o’er it heavy with a dew of death—
Its powers, like leaves before the night-rain, closing;
And, as by conflict of wild sea-waves toss’d
On the chill bosom of some desert coast,
Mutely and hopelessly I lay reposing.
When silently it seem’d
As if a soft mist gleam’d
Before my passive sight, and, slowly curling,