When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean`d my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charact`ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen`d grain;
When I behold, upon the night`s starr`d face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love! -- then on the shore
Of (this) wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame (and) nothingness (to) sink.