Severn - I - Lift Me Up

A Thing Of Beauty Is A Joy Forever.

My Spirit Is Too Weak--mortality Weighs Heavily On Me Like Unwilling Sleep, And Each Imagin'd Pinnacle And Steep Of Godlike Hardship Tells Me I Must Die Like A Sick Eagle Looking At The Sky.

I Saw Pale Kings And Princes Too, Pale Warriors, Death-pale Were They All; They Cried- "la Belle Dame Sans Merci Hath Thee In Thrall!

Knowledge Enormous Makes A God Of Me.

Turn The Key Deftly In The Oiled Wards, And Seal The Hushed Casket Of My Soul.