1468
A winged spark doth soar about—
I never met it near
For Lightning it is oft mistook
When nights are hot and sere—
Its twinkling Travels it pursues
Above the Haunts of men—
A speck of Rapture—first perceived
By feeling it is gone—
Rekindled by some action quaint
2.8k
1468
A winged spark doth soar about—
I never met it near
For Lightning it is oft mistook
When nights are hot and sere—
Its twinkling Travels it pursues
Above the Haunts of men—
A speck of Rapture—first perceived
By feeling it is gone—
Rekindled by some action quaint
