Volume II

Dreams, that elude the Waker’s frenzied grasp⁠–⁠
Hands, stark and still, on a dead Mother’s breast,
Which nevermore shall render clasp for clasp,
Or deftly soothe a weeping Child to rest⁠–⁠
In suchlike forms me listeth to portray
My Tale, here ended. Thou delicious Fay⁠–⁠
The guardian of a Sprite that lives to tease thee⁠–⁠
Loving in earnest, chiding but in play
The merry mocking Bruno! Who, that sees thee,
Can fail to love thee, Darling, even as I?⁠–⁠
My sweetest Sylvie, we must say “Goodbye!”