Endymion: The Quest for Beauty

Still let me speak;

Still let me dive into into the joy I seek,—

For yet the past doth prison me.

(Endymion, Book IV)

But were there ever any

Writh'd not at passed joy?

The feel of not to feel it,

When there is none to heal it

Nor numbed sense to steal it,

Was never said in rhyme.