Sucking on, sated never,—whose, O whose
Might seem that countenance, uplift, all eased
Of old distraction and bewilderment,
Absurdly happy? "How ye have appeased
"The strife within me, bred this whole content,
This utter acquiescence in my past,
Present and future life,—by whom was lent
"The power to work this miracle at last,—
Exceeds my guess. Though—ignorance confirmed
By knowledge sounds like paradox, I cast