But the skies that angel trod,

Where deep thoughts are a duty — . Where 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 fervor of thy lute

Well 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.

I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move

As I lie at full length

But no matter! - I feel
I am better at length.

And I rest so composed
Now, in my bed,

That any beholder

Might fancy me dead

Might start at beholding me,

Thinking me dead.

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

My tantalized spirit

Here blandly reposes,

Forgetting, or never
Regretting its roses

Its 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 Annie

Drowned 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,