When I have fears that I may cease to be 
    Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, 
Before high-piled books, in charact'ry, 
    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.