280. Wherein a Glimpse of Laura's House Revives His Agony -
WHEREIN A GLIMPSE OF LAURA'S HOUSE REVIVES HIS AGONY
Is this the nest, is this the sacred nest
In which my Phaenix plumed herself in gold
And purple? Who beneath her wings would fold
My heart — and still with sighs and rich unrest
Consumes it? O sweet sickness in my breast,
First source of my dear death which, uncontrolled,
Flames through my blood from that face aureoled
In its own light, where is that loveliest?
Unique on earth as now in heaven unique,
Me miserable and lonely you have left;
With awe and anguish always must I seek
This house so holy — ah, and so bereft!
Night blinds those hills you soared from, peak by peak —
Hills that with me mourn such a dazzling theft!
Is this the nest, is this the sacred nest
In which my Phaenix plumed herself in gold
And purple? Who beneath her wings would fold
My heart — and still with sighs and rich unrest
Consumes it? O sweet sickness in my breast,
First source of my dear death which, uncontrolled,
Flames through my blood from that face aureoled
In its own light, where is that loveliest?
Unique on earth as now in heaven unique,
Me miserable and lonely you have left;
With awe and anguish always must I seek
This house so holy — ah, and so bereft!
Night blinds those hills you soared from, peak by peak —
Hills that with me mourn such a dazzling theft!
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