When were the hours long enough for this?
In what sweet country do the nights stretch out
In endless moments of sufficient bliss
As if pure joy poured from some open spout
To equal or exceed what happened here?
Is there a world in which this feeling lingers
In its full power, muscular and clear,
A tingling in the kidneys and the fingers?
If so, wherever this may be, or when, or how,
I'll find a way to travel there and be,
For I cannot endure it ending now
When once this paradise opened for me.
There must be such a time, and such a place,
For otherwise, whence came this spark of grace?
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