But the skies that angel trod,

Where deep thoughts are a dutyWhere Love's a grown up God

Where the Houri glances are

Imbued with all the beauty

Which we worship in a star.

Therefore, thou art not wrong,
Israfeli, who despisest

An unimpassioned song;

To thee the laurels belong,

Best bard, because the wisest !

Merrily live, and long!

The ecstasies above

With thy burning measures suit— Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love, With the fervour of thy luteWell may the stars be mute!

Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
Is a world of sweets and sours;
Our flowers are merely-flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the sunshine of ours.

If I could dwell

Where Israfel

Hath dwelt, and he where I,

He might not sing so wildly well

A mortal melody,

While a bolder note than this might swell

From my lyre within the sky.

The sickness-the nausea-
The pitiless pain—

Have ceased, with the fever
That maddened my brain-
With the fever called "Living"
That burned in my brain.

And oh! of all tortures

That torture the worst
Has abated-the terrible
Torture of thirst
For the napthaline river
Of Passion accurst:-
I have drank of a water
That quenches all thirst:-

Of a water that flows,

With a lullaby sound, From a spring but a very few

Feet under ground— From a cavern not very far Down under ground.

And ah! let it never
Be foolishly said

That my room it is gloomy
And narrow my bed;

For man never slept

In a different bed

And, to sleep, you must slumber In just such a bed.

My tantalized spirit

Here blandly reposes, Forgetting, or never Regretting its rosesIts old agitations

Of myrtles and roses :

For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies
A holier odor

About it, of pansies-
A rosemary odor,

Commingled with pansies-With rue and the beautiful Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,

Bathing in many

A dream of the truth

And the beauty of AnnieDrowned in a bath

Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,
She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently

To sleep on her breast

Deeply to sleep

From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,

She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
To keep me from harm—
To the queen of the angels
To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly,
Now, in my bed,
(Knowing her love)

That you fancy me dead-
And I rest so contentedly,

Now in my bed,

(With her love at my breast)

That you fancy me dead