CXCVI.

"My breast has been all weakness, is so yet;

But still I think I can collect my mind;[AP]My blood still rushes where my spirit's set,

As roll the waves before the settled wind;

My heart is feminine, nor can forget—

To all, except one image, madly blind;

So shakes the needle, and so stands the pole,

As vibrates my fond heart to my fixed soul.[AQ]

Share on Twitter Share on Facebook