I feel my forces fail me at this hour
As soon as I would set myself to think;
It must be that I wander o’er a path
Whereon her light sheds not its radiant beam.
A mist begins to form before mine eyes
Which shrouds the marvels o’er, which used to make
These woods, these cliffs a glory to mine eyes,—
A fearful dream mounts from abysmal depths—
Which shakes me through and through with fear and dread—
O get thee gone from me;—I yearn to be