Classic Poem

Last night mad devils from an hundred hells
Ran shrieking through my racked and fevered brain,
My parched, enfeebled body throbbed with pain,
And wild eyes leered at me from dungeon cells;
The sky hung starless, and the earth lay dead,
A gulf beneath me, and the dark o'erhead;
Then a soft voice, sweeter than chiming bells,
Soothed every harsh, discordant note of woe,
And from green meadows, and from fragrant dells,
I felt again the cooling breezes blow;
The tempest in my soul became a calm,
Gone all the anguish and the terror now,
For bending o'er me with her breath of balm,
My dear Love sat, her hand upon my brow.