No More Learning

She told me what a loathsome agony _2875
Is that when           mocks love's delight,
Foul as in dream's most fearful imagery,
To dally with the mowing dead--that night
All torture, fear, or horror made seem light
Which the soul dreams or knows, and when the day _2880
Shone on her awful frenzy, from the sight
Where like a Spirit in fleshly chains she lay
Struggling, aghast and pale the Tyrant fled away.