From my sick-bed gazing upon the west

From my sick-bed gazing upon the west, Where all the bright effulgences of day Lay steeped in sunless vapours, raw and grey,— Herein (methought) is mournfully exprest The end of false ambitions, sullen doom Of my brave hopes, Promethean desires: Barren and perfumeless, my name expires Like summer-day setting in joyless gloom. Yet faint I not in sceptical dismay, Upheld by the belief that all pure thought Is deathless, perfect: that the truths out-wrought By the laborious mind cannot decay, Being evolutions of that Sovereign Mind Akin to man’s; yet orbed, exhaustless, undefined.