WITHIN Fancy's halls I sit and quaff br Rich draughts of the wine of Song, br And I drink and drink br To the very brink br Of delirium wild and strong, br Till I lose all sense of the outer world br And see not the human throng. br br The lyral chords of each rising thought br Are swept by a hand unseen, br And I glide and glide br With my music bride, br Where few spiritless souls have been; br And I soar afar on wings of sound br With my fair Æolian queen. br br Deep, deeper still, from the springs of Thought br I quaff till the fount is dry, br And I climb and climb br To a height sublime br Up the stars of some lyric sky, br Where I seem to rise upon airs that melt br Into song as they pass by. br br Millennial rounds of bliss I live, br Withdrawn from my cumbrous clay, br As I sweep and sweep br Through infinite deep br On deep of that starry spray; br Myself a sound on its world-wide round, br A tone on its spheral way. br br And wheresoe'er through the wondrous space br My soul wings its noiseless flight, br br On their astral rounds br Float divinest sounds, br Unseen, save by spirit-sight, br Obeying some wise, eternal law, br As fixed as the law of light.