Fragment. "Crotchets—odd mixings up of soul and sense—"

Crotchets—odd mixings up of soul and sense—
  (Sense, if the truth were told, oft mastering Soul)
  Full sure he had; but we did suffer them,
  For they were gentle and obeyed the rein.
  Nay—wayward fantasies, that come and go
  From nerve or brain, and link and cling together
  At their own will (and surely such were his)
  'Twere hard, methinks, to blame!