glittereth beyond The glorious galaxies of diamond. Beautiful Lunacy!
that shapest flight For love to blessed
bowers of delight, And buildest holy monarchies within The fancy,
till the very heart is queen Of all her golden wishes. Lunacy!
Thou empress of the passions! though
they be A sister group
of wild, unearthly forms, Like lightnings playing in
their home of storms! I see thee, striking at the silver strings Of
the pure heart, and holy music springs Before thy touch, in many a
solemn strain, Like that of
sea-waves rolling from the main! But say, is Melancholy by
thy side, With tresses in
a raven shower, that hide Her pale and weeping features? Is she never
Flowing before thee, like a gloomy
river, The sister
of thyself? but cold and chill, And winter-born, and sorrowfully
still, And not like thee, that art in merry mood, And frolicksome
amid thy solitude! Fair Lunacy! I see thee, with
a crown Of hawthorn and sweet daisies,
bending down To mirror thy young image in a spring; And thou wilt
kiss that shadow of a thing As soul-less as thyself. 'Tis tender,
too, The smile that meeteth thine! the holy hue Of health!
the pearly radiance of the brow! All, all as tender--beautiful as
thou! And wilt thou
say, my sister, there is none Wi
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