Chapter XXI

But where, thou sayest, himself would not abide,--
Thy solemn incommunicable joy
Announcing Adonais has not died,
Attesting death to free but not destroy,
All this was as thy swan-song mystical.
Even while the note serene was on thy tongue
Thin grew the veil of the Invisible,
The white sword nearer swung,--
And in the sudden wisdom of thy rest
Thou knewest all thou hadst but dimly guessed.