Song for Tasso

But when we cease to breathe and move

I do suppose love ceases too.

I thought, but not as now I do,

Keen thoughts and bright of linked lore,

Of all that men had thought before,

And all that Nature shows, and more.

But strangely, for my heart can drink

The dregs of such despair, and live,

And love;...

And if I think, my thoughts come fast,

I mix the present with the past,

And each seems uglier than the last.

A silver spirit's form, like thee,

O Leonora, and I sit

... still watching it,

Till by the grated casement's ledge

It fades, with such a sigh, as sedge

Breathes o'er the breezy streamlet's edge.