By Chance My Fingers, Resting On My Face, Stayed Suddenly Where In Its Orbit Shone The Lamp Of All Things Beautiful; Then On, Following More Heedfully, Did Softly Trace Each Arch And Prominence And Hollow Place That Shall Revealed Be When All Else Is Gone - Warmth, Colour, Roundness - To Oblivion, And Nothing Left But Darkness And Disgrace. Life Like A Moment Passed Seemed Then To Be; A Transient Dream This Raiment That It Wore; While Spelled My Hand Out Its Mortality Made Certain All That Had Seemed Doubt Before: Proved - O How Vaguely, Yet How Lucidly! - How Much Death Does; And Yet Can Do No More.