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 | The Sylphs of the Seasons, with other poems |  |
“Oh blessed band, of birth divine,
“What mortal task is like to mine!”—
And further had I spoke,
When, lo! there pour'd a flood of light
So fiercely on my aching sight,
I fell beneath the vision bright,
And with the pain awoke.
“What mortal task is like to mine!”—
And further had I spoke,
When, lo! there pour'd a flood of light
So fiercely on my aching sight,
I fell beneath the vision bright,
And with the pain awoke.
| The Sylphs of the Seasons, with other poems | |