And cannot fly beyond this earthly groove!
Midway it pauses, hanging throbbing there.
I will not speak, lest it should seem profane
In such a presence; idle words of praise
Ye are but mortal sounds, with no refrain
That can endure beyond our passing days,
And so be silent! silent with the pain
Of all deep feeling, that can find no phrase.
V
Kiss me good night, sweet minstrel, on the stairs!