An ecstacy follows: in which the soul of the Poet seems to mount, like a
dove rising into the heavens with a message of woe tied under her wings;
and so the disembodied soul leaves its "mortal ark"--"our earthly house of
this tabernacle"--(2 Cor. v., 1) and flees away
"O'er ocean-mirrors rounded large"
(the sea line constantly expanding and always being circular), until the
ship comes in sight, when it lingers "on the marge," the edge of the sea,
weeping with the piteous cry--
"Is this the end of all my care?
Is this the end? Is this the end?"
Then it flies in sport about the prow of the vessel, and after this seems
to
"return
To where the body sits, and learn,
That I have been an hour away."