Like deep blue orbs familiar to my youth;
But now abstraction clouds me, and the fire—
Ambition's fire—it can be nothing less—
Deserts its lonely shrine; but I must give
The last bright touch to this bewitching form,
This pictured rainbow of my solitude!
I have invested her with loveliness
More pure than beings of the earth assume,
And Memory calls her beauteous image back
From the forgotten things of distant years,