And gladly would suck out that soul of thine!
"Should I give back the prize?"
Ask not, great pasture-ground for human eyes!
My bliss! My bliss!
Stern belfry, rising as with lion's leap
Sheer from the soil in easy victory,
That fill'st the Square with peal resounding, deep,
Wert thou in French that Square's "accent aigu"?
Were I for ages set
In earth like thee, I know what silk-meshed net. . . .
My bliss! My bliss!
Hence, music! First let darker shadows come,
And grow, and merge into brown, mellow night!
'Tis early for your pealing, ere the dome
Sparkle in roseate glory, gold-bedight.
While yet 'tis day, there's time
For strolling, lonely muttering, forging rhyme—
My bliss! My bliss!
COLUMBUS REDIVIVUS.
Thither I'll travel, that's my notion,
I'll trust myself, my grip,
Where opens wide and blue the ocean
I'll ply my Genoa ship.
New things on new the world unfolds me,
Time, space with noonday die:
Alone thy monstrous eye beholds me,
Awful Infinity!
