text:  And this the world calls fancy--the fantastic vision of a madman's brain! There was never a voice like _her_ voice; and though the winds rage tempestuously among the waving branches of the storm-tossed trees I hear the liquid music of her accents above all and I strain my eyes to catch a glimpse of her person but there is nothing; and I crouch down again in my chains and my madness on my desolate bed feeling how utterly--how entirely I am alone