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What madness ’twas, I know not, that thus enchanted me;
What wine, nor who the bringer, nor wherefore enter’d he.
—Lament no more, O full heart, thy love so close confin’d!
O rosebud, ope thy glory, thy beauty nought shall bind!
Behold the flower-fill’d meadows; thou too, O wistful Dear,
Take in thine hand the goblet, & lend to me thine ear!
Lo, for our wintry sorrow I hold the certain cure!
Lo, stern fate kneels before us! Lo, rapture evermore!
—What madness ’twas I know not, that thus entrancéd me;
What wine, nor who the bearer, nor whither vanished he.