And fain would swallow me! Do ye not fly,
Pale, sick, and gurgling, as I pass you by?
“Lift up! and let me see, that I may tell
Ye can be mad, and strange, and terrible;
That ye have power, and passion, and a sound,
As of the flying of an angel round
The mighty world: that ye are one with time,
And in the great primordium sublime
Were cursed together, as an infant-twain,—
A glory and a wonder! I would fain