And utter all myself into the air:

Through portals of the sense, sublime and whole,

And inly answering all the九九藏書 senses round

With stammering lips and insufficient sound

Before that dread apocalypse of soul.

That music of my nature, day and night

With octaves of a mystic depth read•９９ｃｓw.ｃomand height

Which step out grandly to the infinite

But if I did it,--as the thunder-roll

Breaks its own cloudｒeａｄ•99ｃsｗ.cｏｍ, my flesh would perish there,

I strive and struggle to deliver right

Wihttpｓ://reａｄ.9９csｗ•ｃoｍth dream and thought and feeling interwound

This song of soul I struggle to outbear

From the dark edges of the sensual ground.