…i’ve come to talk with you again,
because a vision softly creeping,
left its seeds while i was sleeping;
and the vision that was planted in my brain
still remains, with the sound of silence.
in restless dreams i walked alone,
narrow streets of cobblestone.
‘neath the halo of a streetlamp,
i turned my collar to the cold a damp,
and my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
that split the night
and touched the sound of silence.
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…narrow streets of cobblestone,
‘neath the halo of a street lamp,
i turned my collar to the cold and damp,
when my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
that split the night
and touched the sound of silence.
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Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of cold philosophy?
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
We know her woof, her texture; she is given
In the dull catalogue of common things.
Philosophy will clip an Angel’s wings,
Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,
Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine –
Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made
The tender-personed Lamia melt into a shade.
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