ABSTRACT
Yet must I think less wildly; I have thought Too long and darkly, till my brain became In its own eddy boiling and o’erwrought, A whirling gulf of fantasy and flame; And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, My springs of life were poisoned. ‘Tis too late! Yet am I changed; though still enough the same In strength to bear what time cannot abate, And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate.
