““Come fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring Your Winter-garment of repentance fling: The bird of Time has but a little way To flutter—and the Bird is on the Wing. "A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness— Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow. "Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears To-day of past Regrets and future Fears: To-morrow!—Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years. "I sent my soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return'd to me, And answer'd, "I myself am Heav'n and Hell: "Heav'n but the vision of fulfill'd Desire, And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on Fire, Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves, So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.””
