Dark, dark this mind, if ever in vain it rove
The face of man in search of hope and love;
Or, turning inward from earth's sun and moon.
Spin in cold solitude thought's mazed cocoon.
Fresh hang Time's branches. Hollow in space out-cry
The grave-toned trumpets of Eternity.
“World of divine delight” heart whispereth,
Though all its all lie but ’twixt birth and death.