 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
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9.
But there 's a fever of the soul,Beyond this opiate control;
When the book-charm its influence loses,
The mind will wander where it chooses:
We see the page, but never heed,
Or thought is busy while we read;
And strange revealings fill the gloom—
A song of joy, or dirge of doom
Seems writ on every page we turn,
With spirit lore we fain would learn.
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |