While ranging far in the Pierian sky,
Sudden some Power smote me with a sword
Whose flame of blackness quenched my every word,
And cast me helpless where the stricken lie;
Hope fled afar,—it seemed my fate to die;
On the gray air my pleadings I outpoured,—
No promise echoed back—no answering chord,
And Death on ashen wing was hovering nigh.
Then that dear Spirit who loved me at my birth,—
Who solaced life with her melodious tone,—
Broke through the gloom, and stood like wingèd Dawn;
Seeing me crushed, she left her airy throne,
And, as a sister, led me back to Earth,
When dreams returned that for a space had gone.