In the feverish heat of madness, sheer weakness made even the doorway seem too far; within the home itself, there surely was a wilderness in miniature.

This couplet paints a tender picture of a lover completely drained by the fever of his own passion. Traditionally, a lovesick person wanders off into the open desert, but here, he is so physically exhausted that even dragging himself to the front door feels like an impossible journey. Unable to leave, the vast desolation of his heart turns his small, quiet room into a miniature wilderness of its own.