He bowed his forehead till his mouth Curved in the wave, and drank unloth As if from rivers of the south; His lips sobbed through the water rank, His heart paused in him while he drank, His brain beat heart-like, rose and sank, And he swooned backward to a dream Wherein he lay 'twixt gloom and gleam, With Death and Life at each extreme: And spiritual thunders, born of soul Not cloud, did leap from mystic pole And o'er him roll and counter-roll, Crushing their echoes Reboant With their own wheels.
"The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Vol. I"
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Euphemia had an ear for it; whim also to construe lord and master relaxed but Reboant and soaring above the verbal to harmonic truths of abstract or transcendental, to be hummed subsequently by privileged female audience of one bent on a hook-or-crook plucking out of pith for salvation.
"A Christmas Garland"
Max Beerbohm