One forgotten, from thought outdriven,
I know not whether on Earth or in Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
’Tis a peaceful, soothing region—
This same desert drear of Night,
Where the Eidolon sits upright
On his toadstool, or outspread,
Lies lolling on his lily-bed.—
For the spirit that likes a shadow
’Tis, O, ’tis an Eldorado,—