Fragment: "Igniculus Desiderii"

To thirst and find no fill--to wail and wander With short unsteady steps--to 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...

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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To thirst and find no wail and wander
With short unsteady pause and ponder--
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