To a Lady, XXXVIII

A body grew o’er my ghostly mind, And I felt young winglets sprout behind, A butterfly pair of gauzy things; And I was a cherub with little wings. But cherubs there are of weal and woe, Angels above and imps below: Oh, was it for good I was fashion’d so! Or was it for direr stings! For now I had eyes; and now I could see And now I was dress’d in a shape to be A new-born soul in Eternity, But ignorant all of my destiny, As the veriest bird that sings.