To thirst and find no fillto wail and wander
With short unsteady stepsto pause and ponder--
To feel the blood run through the veins and tingle
Where busy thought and blind sensation mingle;
To nurse the image of unfelt caresses
Till dim imagination just possesses
The half-created shadow, then all the night
Sick...
Fragment: "Igniculus Desiderii"
written byPercy Bysshe Shelley
© Percy Bysshe Shelley