It was a mournful rapture to lie awake now, wishing not for sleep
and oblivion, hating the thought of daylight that would come at
last to drown and scare away my vision. To be with Rima
again--my lost Rima recovered--mine, mine at last! No longer the
old vexing doubt now--"You are you, and I am I--why is it?"--the
question asked when our souls were near together, like two
raindrops side by side, drawing irresistibly nearer, ever nearer:
for now they had touched and were not two, but one inseparable
drop, crystallized beyond change, not to be disintegrated by
time, nor shattered by death's blow, nor resolved by any alchemy.
I had other company besides this unfailing vision and the bright
dancing fire that talked to me in its fantastic fire language.
It was my custom to secure the door well on retiring; grief had
perhaps chilled my blood, for I suffered less from heat than from
cold at this period, and the fire seemed grateful all night long;
I was also anxious to exclude all small winged and creeping
night-wanderers. But to exclude them entirely proved impossible:
through a dozen invisible chinks they would find their way to me;
also some entered by day to lie concealed until after nightfall.
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