Classic Poem

"My task is done; my song hath ceased; my theme
Has died into an echo. It is fit
The spell should break of this protracted dream.
The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit
My midnight lamp,--and what is writ, is writ;
Would it were worthier, but I am not now
That which I have been, and my visions flit
Less palpably before me--and the glow
Which in my spirit dwelt, is fluttering, faint and low."