Thought comes, more bright than Reason's sun which hurls 
Its constant beams around till verge of doom - 
Or as the silver‑chequered shades which loom 
'Neath Fancy's moon in windy queerest whirl
Thought comes, but blinds the glaring mental sight, 
But shakes our mind with echoes of its roar 
And bears its force beyond our visual scope;