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O spirit mine, arouse thee from a sleep
Which only sloth or weakness can prolong,
And on the dazzling mountain-peaks of song
Let Beauty's legions in thy heart's blood leap;
Then list thou to the harmonies that sweep
The infinite paths to infinite life along,
Content to shrine but one of that vast throng
In music all the years will love to keep....
This luring ecstasy, how vain! how vain!
But though my reason's every tongue upbraid,
I yet am bound a prisoner to its will;
For yesternight mine ear caught such a strain,
By dream's own fingers on my spirit played,
That its melodious raptures shake me still.