One Of The Most Mysterious Of Semi-speculations

On A Lone Winter Evening, When The Frost Has Wrought A Silence.

So Let Me Be Thy Choir, And Make A Moan Upon The Midnight Hours.

Alas! When Passion Is Both Meek And Wild!

Their Woes Gone By, And Both To Heaven Upflown, To Bow For Gratitude Before Jove's Throne.

There Was An Awful Rainbow Once In Heaven: We Know Her Woof, Her Texture; She Is Given In The Dull Catalogue Of Common Things. Philosophy Will Clip An Angel's Wings.