Or if it were, in winged guise,
A visitant from Paradise;
For—Heaven forgive that thought! the while 285
Which made me both to weep and smile—
I sometimes deem’d that it might be
My brother’s soul come down to me;
But then at last away it flew,
And then ’twas mortal—well I knew, 290
For he would never thus have flown,
And left me twice so doubly lone—