Canto XCI

I shall not see thee. Dare I say

      No spirit ever brake the band

      That stays him from the native land,

Where first he walk'd when claspt in clay?

No visual shade of some one lost,

      But he, the Spirit himself, may come

      Where all the nerve of sense is numb;

Spirit to Spirit, Ghost to Ghost.

O, therefore from thy sightless range

      With gods in unconjectured bliss,

      O, from the distance of the abyss

Of tenfold-complicated change,

Descend, and touch, and enter; hear

      The wish too strong for words to name;

      That in this blindness of the frame

My Ghost may feel that thine is near.