WITH stammering lips and insufficient sound

But if I did it,--as the thunder-roll

Breaks its own cloud, my flesh would perish there,

That music of my nature, day anｗｗw•9９ｌｉb•neｔd night

Which step out grandly to the infinite

Through portals of the sense, sublime and whole,

With ocｈtｔp://ｗwｗ•９９liｂ•nｅttaves of a mystic depth and height

And utter all myself into the a九九藏书网ir:

This song of soul I struggle to outbear

I strive and struggle to deliver right

With dream and thought and feeling intehttp://www.99lib.netrwound

And inly answering all the senses round

Before that dread apocalypse of soul.

From the dark edges of the sensual ground.