I count the dismal time by months and years br Since last I felt the green sward under foot, br And the great breath of all things summer- br Met mine upon my lips. Now earth appears br As strange to me as dreams of distant spheres br Or thoughts of Heaven we weep at. Nature's lute br Sounds on, behind this door so closely shut, br A strange wild music to the prisoner's ears, br Dilated by the distance, till the brain br Grows dim with fancies which it feels too br While ever, with a visionary pain, br Past the precluded senses, sweep and Rhine br Streams, forests, glades, and many a golden train br Of sunlit hills transfigured to Divine.