I am madness in raptures borne on an airy steed,<br />
A hue of beloved eyes coloring up in dance.<br />
Why, what am I made for, I neither know nor gather;<br />
Now a mood, now melody, a voice that just rings on.<br />
I am a flame descending to the heart’s hidden cellars;<br />
I am a jingling joy, a drunkenness in raptures.<br />
In your veins a fire, I am a quivering flame,<br />
A sparkling radiance, burning passion, yearning.<br />
I don’t exist; I’m wind, heaving joy on joy;<br />
With tears in my cheer and sad, smiling eyes.<br />
Speak up, madman! what makes you weep with me?<br />
I spring in a spirited step and reach your blood a-swing.<br />
A mere illusive thought or an ever-unfolding grace;<br />
A reckless airy steed rushing through reflections;<br />
Or made of beat and jingle a prayer that is heard.