Tis to create, and in creating live
        A being more intense, that we endow
        With form our fancy, gaining as we give
        The life we image, even as I do now.
        What am I? Nothing: but not so art thou,
        Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth,
        Invisible but gazing, as I glow
        Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth,
And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings' dearth.

Autor: Lord Byron