THE ARGUMENT
I have clungTo nothing, lov’d a nothing, nothing seenOr felt but a great dream! O I have beenPresumptuous against love, against the sky,Against all elements, against the tieOf mortals each to each....... Against his proper gloryHas my soul conspired; so my storyWill I to children utter, and repent.There never lived a mortal man, who bentHis appetite beyond his natural sphereBut starv’d and died....Here will I kneel, for thou redeemest hastMy life from too thin breathing: gone and pastAre cloudy phantasms!—Keats.
I have clungTo nothing, lov’d a nothing, nothing seenOr felt but a great dream! O I have beenPresumptuous against love, against the sky,Against all elements, against the tieOf mortals each to each....... Against his proper gloryHas my soul conspired; so my storyWill I to children utter, and repent.There never lived a mortal man, who bentHis appetite beyond his natural sphereBut starv’d and died....Here will I kneel, for thou redeemest hastMy life from too thin breathing: gone and pastAre cloudy phantasms!—Keats.
I have clungTo nothing, lov’d a nothing, nothing seenOr felt but a great dream! O I have beenPresumptuous against love, against the sky,Against all elements, against the tieOf mortals each to each....
I have clung
To nothing, lov’d a nothing, nothing seen
Or felt but a great dream! O I have been
Presumptuous against love, against the sky,
Against all elements, against the tie
Of mortals each to each....
... Against his proper gloryHas my soul conspired; so my storyWill I to children utter, and repent.
... Against his proper glory
Has my soul conspired; so my story
Will I to children utter, and repent.
There never lived a mortal man, who bentHis appetite beyond his natural sphereBut starv’d and died....Here will I kneel, for thou redeemest hastMy life from too thin breathing: gone and pastAre cloudy phantasms!—Keats.
There never lived a mortal man, who bent
His appetite beyond his natural sphere
But starv’d and died....
Here will I kneel, for thou redeemest hast
My life from too thin breathing: gone and past
Are cloudy phantasms!
—Keats.