Canto XC
If any vision should revealThy likeness, I might count it vainAs but the canker of the brain;Yea, though it spake and made appeal
To chances where our lots were castTogether in the days behind,I might but say, I hear a windOF memory murmuring the past.
Yea, tho’ it spake and bared to viewA fact within the coming year;And tho’ the months, revolving near,Should prove the phantom-warning true,
They might not seem thy prophecies,But spiritual presentiments,And such refraction of eventsAs often rises ere they rise.