From that warm height and pure, The peak undreamed of out of heavy air Rising to heaven more strange and rare; From that amazed brief sojourn, exquisite, insecure;
Fallen from thence to this, From all immortal sunk to mortal sweet, To slow gross joys from joy so fleet, Fallen to mere remembrance of unsustainable bliss....
O harsh, O heavy air, Difficult endurance, pain of common things! The slow sun east to westward swings, The flat-faced moon climbs labouring with a senseless stare.
From that inconceivable height —— O inward eyes that saw and ears that heard, Spiritual swift wings that stirred In that warm-flushing air and unendurable light;
When I was as mere down On a swift-running youthful wind uptaken Over tall trees, white mountains, shaken, Into the uttermost azure lifted, lifted alone.
From that peak can it be That I am fallen, fallen that was so high? Or was that truly, surely I? Who is it crawls here now, sad, uncontentedly?
Fallen from that high content, — Fool, thou that wast content merely with bliss! Happy those lovers that will not kiss; Never to be fulfilled was the heart's endless passion meant.
Never on joys attainable To linger, never on easy near delight — O bitter, unreached infinite, Merciful defeat, availless anguish, hunger unendurable!
O who shall be in longing wise, Skilled in refusal, in embracing free, Glad with earth's innocent ecstasy, Yet all the uncomprehended heaven in his eyes!
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