To Marie Louise + 

Not long ago, the writer of these lines, + 

In the mad pride of intellectuality, + 

Maintained вАЬthe power of wordsвАЭвБ†вАФdenied that ever + 

A thought arose within the human brain + 

Beyond the utterance of the human tongue: + 

And now, as if in mockery of that boast, + 

Two wordsвБ†вАФtwo foreign soft dissyllablesвБ†вАФ + 

Italian tones, made only to be murmured + 

By angels dreaming in the moonlit вАЬdew + 

That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,вАЭвБ†вАФ + 

Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart, + 

Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought, + 

Richer, far wider, far diviner visions + 

Than even the seraph harper, Israfel, + 

(Who has вАЬthe sweetest voice of all GodвАЩs creaturesвАЭ) + 

Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken. + 

The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand. + 

With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee, + 

I can not writeвБ†вАФI can not speak or thinkвБ†вАФ + 

Alas, I can not feel; for вАЩtis not feeling, + 

This standing motionless upon the golden + 

Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams, + 

Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista, + 

And thrilling as I see, upon the right, + 

Upon the left, and all the way along, + 

Amid empurpled vapors, far away + 

To where the prospect terminatesвБ†вАФthee only! + 