So, we'll go no more a-roving so late into the night; Though the heart be still as loving, and the moon be still as bright...

I traced a circle on the ground,
It was a mystic figure strange
Wherein I thought there would abound
Mute symbols adequate of change,
And complex formulas of Law,
Which is the jaws of Change's maw.

My simplest thoughts in vain had stemmed
The current of this madness free,
But that my thinking is condemned
To symbol and analogy;
I deemed a circle might condense
With calm all mystery's violence.

And so in cabalistic mood
A circle traced I curious there;
Imperfect the made circle stood
Though formed with minutest care.
From magic's failure deeply I
A lesson took to make me sigh.

So
Could I say what I think,
Could I express my every hidden
And too-silent thought,
And bring my feeling,
In perfection wrought,
To one unforced point of living stress...