When I Have Fears that I May Cease to Exist
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When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred 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 the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
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