Sinopsis

Flushed with fancies, I bethought me, 'Into music I will set them, Like a pearl into its setting Of the finest golden fretting; Never shall the world forget them; It shall sing me, ring me back the melody; It shall rise and bless the poem while it blesseth me.' But, ah me! some faintness ailed me, Or it ailed the music rather. Was it all a stir of gladness? Was it half a pang of sadness? Do my best, I could not gather From my heart's store any chord of harmony; No other thought was music to me but the thought of thee.