I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen. - John Keats

So let me be thy choir, and make a moan
Upon the midnight hours

You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!