Lines: 'My Spirit Longing for That Plain'

My spirit longing for that plain
Of Arctic numbness, ancient rain
May once upon your face have fallen,
That aye scared face mine has callen
I note, particularly when early fie
The snowy nest of lightning cloud;
My gambit spirit, trapped, would fly
And be thy moon, thy earth on high
To exchange for a dry bone shroud:
Who could be lonesome on that lurid vein,
Of yours, dear face of smiling glee,
Those silent pipings beamed at me.
But lo! How taints a joy not to be;
It visits brief and black domains,
Laughing, in's grave, that coffin of space,
Taunting me with its angelic face.
Thou knowest my arms outstretched
Can ne'er thy lifeless bosom bless,
No sooner than yon spangled roof tent entwine,
Could capture yours, nor you be mine.