Slides down by thrills, through all things made,
Through sight and sound of every place:
As if my tender mother laid
On my shut lids her kisses’ pressure,
Half waking me at night; and said,
“Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser?”
—Mrs. Browning.
FROM MY ARM-CHAIR.[13]
Am I a king that I should call my own
This splendid ebon throne?