Well Hast Thou Spoken, And Yet Not Taught A Feeling Strange Or New; Thou Hast But Roused A Latent Thought, A Cloud-Closed Beam Of Sunshine Brought To Gleam In Open View. Deep Down, Concealed Within My Soul, That Light Lies Hid From Men; Yet Glows Unquenched, Though Shadows Roll, Its Gentle Ray Cannot Control, About The Sullen Den. Was I Not Vexed, In These Gloomy Ways To Walk Alone So Long? Around Me, Wretches Uttering Praise, Or Howling O'Er Their Hopeless Days, And Each With Frenzy'S Tongue; A Brotherhood Of Misery, Their Smiles As Sad As Sighs; Whose Madness Daily Maddened Me, Distorting Into Agony The Bliss Before My Eyes! So Stood I, In Heaven'S Glorious Sun, And In The Glare Of Hell; My Spirit Drank A Mingled Tone, Of Seraph'S Song, And Demon'S Moan; What My Soul Bore, My Soul Alone Within Itself May Tell! Like A Soft, Air Above A Sea, Tossed By The Tempest'S Stir; A Thaw-Wind, Melting Quietly The Snow-Drift On Some Wintry Lea; No: What Sweet Thing Resembles Thee, My Thoughtful Comforter? And Yet A Little Longer Speak, Calm This Resentful Mood; And While The Savage Heart Grows Meek, For Other Token Do Not Seek, But Let The Tear Upon My Cheek Evince My Gratitude!