Renounced so madly, where what 's false is fact,

Where he makes beauty out of ugliness,

Where he lives, life itself disguised for him

As immortality—so works the spell,

The enthusiastic mood which marks a man

Muse-mad, dream-drunken, wrapt around by verse,

Encircled with poetic atmosphere,

As lark emballed by its own crystal song,

Or rose enmisted by that scent it makes!

No, this were unreality! the real