In his deep heart—but love. He perish’d young,
But perish’d wasted by some fatal flame
That fed upon his vitals: and there came
Lunacy, sweeping lightly, like a stream,
Along his brain—he perish’d in a dream!
In sooth I marvel not
If death be only a mysterious thought,
That cometh on the heart and turns the brow
Brightless and chill, as Julio’s is now;
For only had the wasting struggle been