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.