mesmerism.
123
XXXIII.
That dull, dead sound—those drops tracked all the path
(I see it in the night).
I reached the porch, my hounds with fierce loud wrath
Flew out; but as the light
Fell on my face, they crouched and whined,
And I fell speechless, senseless, blind.
(I see it in the night).
I reached the porch, my hounds with fierce loud wrath
Flew out; but as the light
Fell on my face, they crouched and whined,
And I fell speechless, senseless, blind.
XXXIV.
They bore us here. So tight was my death-clasp,
They could not loose my hold
That day, that night. At length, freed from my grasp,
They bore her stark and cold . . .
Sometimes it seems but yesterday—
Sometimes . . . . . I know not what I say.
They could not loose my hold
That day, that night. At length, freed from my grasp,
They bore her stark and cold . . .
Sometimes it seems but yesterday—
Sometimes . . . . . I know not what I say.
xxxv.
No strength for grief? did I say that? am I
The finite—infinite—
Not made for heaven nor hell? Yon starry sky
Doth hold both day and night.
All depths of woe or bliss to scan,
God made in His own image man.
The finite—infinite—
Not made for heaven nor hell? Yon starry sky
Doth hold both day and night.
All depths of woe or bliss to scan,
God made in His own image man.
