Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl
Fill
for
me
a
brimming
bowl
And
in
it
let
me
drown
my
soul:
But
put
therein
some
drug,
designed
To
Banish
Women
from
my
mind:
For
I
want
not
the
stream
inspiring
That
fills
the
mind
with—fond
desiring,
But
I
want
as
deep
a
draught
As
e'er
from
Lethe's
wave
was
quaff'd;
From
my
despairing
heart
to
charm
The
Image
of
the
fairest
form
That
e'er
my
reveling
eyes
beheld,
That
e'er
my
wandering
fancy
spell'd.
In
vain!
away
I
cannot
chace
The
melting
softness
of
that
face,
The
beaminess
of
those
bright
eyes,
That
breast—earth's
only
Paradise.
My
sight
will
never
more
be
blest;
For
all
I
see
has
lost
its
zest:
Nor
with
delight
can
I
explore,
The
Classic
page,
or
Muse's
lore.
Had
she
but
known
how
beat
my
heart,
And
with
one
smile
reliev'd
its
smart
I
should
have
felt
a
sweet
relief,
I
should
have
felt
``the
joy
of
grief.''
Yet
as
the
Tuscan
mid
the
snow
Of
Lapland
dreams
on
sweet
Arno,
Even
so
for
ever
shall
she
be
The
Halo
of
my
Memory.
