Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers

The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me And I cannot, cannot go. The giant trees are bending Their bare boughs weighed with snow, And the storm is fast descending,

But, child of dust, the fragrant flowers, The bright blue flowers and velvet sod, Were strange conductors to the bowers Thy daring footsteps must have trod.

I am the only being whose doom No tongue would ask, no eye would mourn; I never caused a thought of gloom A smile of joy since I was born In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away

So hopeless is the world without; The world within I doubly prize; Thy world, where guile, and hate, and doubt, And cold suspicion never rise; Where thou, and I, and Liberty, Have undisputed sovereignty.

First melted off the hope of youth Then Fancy's rainbow fast withdrew And then experience told me truth In mortal bosoms never grew 'Twas grief enough to think mankind All hollow, servile, insincere;

Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now? Since passion may not fire thee Shall Nature cease to bow? Thy mind is ever moving In regions dark to thee; Recall its useless roving —