That feedeth upon fancy’s breath
A little while, then perisheth.
Out, out upon thee—out on thee!
Thou hideous hag, Reality.
Hah! tears again! dost ask me why
The tear upon this burning cheek,
The half repressed, yet bursting sigh?
The tear, the sigh, themselves must speak;
Must tell a tale of by-gone hours,
A vision of all fair and bright—