How silver-sweet the fountain’s fall!
The soulless had a soul to me!
My life its own life lent to all!
“The universe of things seemed swelling
The panting heart to burst its bound,
And wandering fancy found a dwelling
In every shape, thought, deed and sound.
Germed in the mystic buds, reposing,
A whole creation slumbered mute;
Alas! when from the buds unclosing,