And the haven it has entered lies encircled by a shore
Green as Eden was, calm as Heaven is; and the storm is known no more.
There with one whose type is Beauty, Adam-like, I dwell in dreams,
Whose realities were delirium, sleeping by love’s silver streams.
Eve, my angel, always with me, leads my spirit by the hand
Tenderly from its painful memories toward the Better—Happier Land.
And like ghosts, when, clarion-tongued, proud Chanticleer salutes the dawn,
All my ghastly recollections flit, like shadows, and are gone.