midnight
Such the wondrous charm A song can borrow when the bosom throbs That lends it breath . So from the poet 's lips His verse sounds doubly sweet , for none like him Feels every cadence of its wave-like flow ; He lives the passion over , while he reads , That shook him as he sang his lofty strain , And pours his life through each resounding line , As ocean , when the stormy winds are hushed , Still rolls and thunders through his billowy caves . Let me retrace the record of the years That made me what I am . A man most wise , But overworn with toil and bent with age , Sought me to be his scholar , -- me , run wild From books and teachers , -- kindled in my soul The love of knowledge ; led me to his tower , Showed me the wonders of the midnight realm His hollow sceptre ruled , or seemed to rule , Taught me the mighty secrets of the spheres , Trained me to find the glimmering specks of light Beyond the unaided sense , and on my chart To string them one by one , in order due , As on a rosary a saint his beads . I was his only scholar ; I became The echo to his thought ; whate'er he knew Was mine for asking ; so from year to year We wrought together , till there came a time When I , the learner , was the master half Of the twinned being in the dome-crowned tower . Minds roll in paths like planets ; they revolve This in a larger , that a narrower ring , But round they come at last to that same phase , That self-same light and shade they showed before . I learned his annual and his monthly tale , His weekly axiom and his daily phrase , I felt them coming in the laden air , And watched them laboring up to vocal breath , Even as the first-born at his father 's board Knows ere he speaks the too familiar jest Is on its way , by some mysterious sign Forewarned , the click before the striking bell .