Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/36

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And still the shadow of vain dreams shall fall O'er thy mind's world, a daily darkening pall. Fold, then, thy wounded wing, and sink subdued, In cold and unrepining quietude!"

Then my soul yielded; spells of numbing breath Crept o'er it heavy with a dew of death, Its powers, like leaves before the night-rain, closing; And, as by conflict of wild sea-waves toss'd   On the chill bosom of some desert coast, Mutely and hopelessly I lay reposing.

When silently it seem'd           As if a soft mist gleam'd Before my passive sight, and, slowly curling, To many a shape and hue Of vision'd beauty grew, Like a wrought banner, fold by fold unfurling. Oh! the rich scenes that o'er mine inward eye Unrolling, then swept by,