A strange wild music to the prisoners ears,

Sounds on, behind this door so closely shut,

As strange to me as dreams of distant spheres

Grows dim with fancies which it feels too

Or thoughts of Heaven we weep at藏书网. Natures lute

I count the dismal time by months and years

And the great breath of all things summer-

Streams, forests, glades, and many a golden tra九_九_藏_书_网in

Met mine upon my lips. Now earth appears

While ever, with a visionary pain,

Past the precluded senses, sweep and Rhinwｗｗ•９９ｌｉb.neｔe

Of sunlit hills transfigured to Divine.

Since last I felt the green sward under foot,

Dilated by the distance, till the brain