AT length the then of my long hope was now; br Yet had my spirit an extreme unrest: br I knew the good from better was grown best br At length, but could not just as yet tell how. br So I lay straight along, and thrust my brow br Under the heights of grass. Hours struck. The West, br I knew, must be at change; but gazed not, lest br The heat against my naked face (no bough br For shade) should tease me mad, like poisoned spice. br I lay along, letting my whole self think, br Pressing my brow down that the thoughts might fix: br Just as a dicer who holds loaded dice, br Sure of his cast, keeps trifling with his drink br Ere he will throw, and still must taste and mix.