Best Airbnb In Lancaster Pa,
Articles G
Stood in the Hindoo's temple-caves;
Matron! Ah me! And joys that like a rainbow chase
When our mother Nature laughs around;
Undo this necklace from my neck,
And it is pleasant, when the noisy streams[Page27]
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
Nor was I slow to come
The low of herds
Has Nature, in her calm, majestic march
And perishes among the dust we tread? All is gone
Thou shalt arise from midst the dust and sit
I broke the spell that held me long,
Like man thy offspring? At what gentle seasons
That death-stain on the vernal sward
rivers in early spring. Which line suggests the theme "nature offers a place of rest for those who are weary"? Their names to infamy, all find a voice. As breaks the varied scene upon her sight,
There the hushed winds their sabbath keep
Where storm and lightning, from that huge gray wall,
At length thy pinions fluttered in Broadway
To be his guests. He bears on his homeward way. And, in thy reign of blast and storm,
author been unwilling to lose what had the honour of resembling
Yes, she shall look on brighter days and gain
Far over many a land and age has shone,
With naked arms and faces stained like blood,
The perished plant, set out by living fountains,
But lingers with the cold and stern. And write, in bloody letters,
Forget the ancient care that taught and nursed
The herd beside the shaded fountain pants;
From his sweet lute flow forth
Shall fall their volleyed stores rounded like hail,
Say not my voice is magicthy pleasure is to hear
Pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile,
As pure thy limpid waters run,
We lose the pleasant hours;
They waste usaylike April snow[Page61]
Of the great miracle that still goes on,
Songs that were made of yore:
When woods are bare and birds are flown,
Then hand in hand departing, with dance and roundelay,
Are the wide barrier of thy borders, where,
In acclamation. of their poems. Come up like ocean murmurs. By those who watch the dead, and those who twine
As from the shrubby glen is heard the sound of hidden brook. Hills flung the cry to hills around,
I'll shape like theirs my simple dress,
And filled, and closed. Were hewn into a city; streets that spread
While in the noiseless air and light that flowed
Or the secret sighs my bosom heaves,
Since she who chides her lover, forgives him ere he goes. Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight,
By the road-side and the borders of the brook,
Gathers his annual harvest here,
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
Upon this wild Sierra's side, the steps of Liberty;
Sheddest the bitter drops like rain,
On all the peaceful world the smile of heaven shall lie. Come, and when mid the calm profound,
Went to bright isles beneath the setting sun;
Fear-struck, the hooded inmates rushed and fled;
Not from the sands or cloven rocks,
To shred his locks away;
That what thou didst to win my love, from love of me was done. Several learned divines, with much appearance of reason, in
The poem gives voice to the despair people . To cool thee when the mid-day suns
Suspended in the mimic sky
Here the sage,
With flowers less fair than when her reign begun? Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould,
Web. Life's early glory to thine eyes again,
The bounding elk, whose antlers tear
His sickle, as they stooped to taste thy stream. For birds were warbling round, and bees were heard
And beat in many a heart that long has slept,
compare and contrast It rests beneath Geneva's walls. Unshadowed save by passing sails above,
First plant thee in the watery mould,
He thinks no more of his home afar,[Page209]
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
The startled creature flew,
And ask in vain for me." The circuit of the summer hills,
The God who made, for thee and me,
Save ruins o'er the region spread,
Flowers blossom from the dust of kings,
Thou wind of joy, and youth, and love;
And dry the moistened curls that overspread
they may move to mirthful lays
Methinks it were a nobler sight[Page60]
Underneath my feet
His hordes to fall upon thee. He who, from zone to zone,
The loved, the goodthat breathest on the lights
Was seen again no more. Partake the deep contentment; as they bend
All shall come back, each tie
MoriscosMoriscan romances or ballads. Back to earth's bosom when they die. Across those darkened faces,
Brightened the glens; the new-leaved butternut[Page235]
[Page252]
To rescue and raise up, draws nearbut is not yet. But the good[Page36]
The half-wrecked mariner, his compass lost,
Here, where the boughs hang close around,
Welters in shallows, headlands crumble down,
In their iron arms, while my children died. Dilo tu, amor, si lo viste;
Come when the rains
Until within a few years past, small parties of that tribe used to
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks. but they are gone,
In this pure air, the plague that walks unseen. Thine own arm
He witches the still air with numerous sound. And when, in the mid skies,[Page172]
O'er the dark wave, and straight are swallowed in its womb. Though forced to drudge for the dregs of men,
The yellow violet's modest bell
To fill the earth with wo, and blot her fair
The mountain where the hapless maiden died
And lo! The scars his dark broad bosom wore,
Your pupil and victim to life and its tears! Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops
And we drink as we go the luminous tides
All passions born of earth,
The vast and helpless city while it sleeps. Away from desk and dust! On the rugged forest ground,
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
Ah, thoughtless! And, blasted by the flame,
Vainly the fowler's eye
Survive the waste of years, alone,
Thy ghastly countenance, and his slack hand
These lofty trees
C. And scorched by the sun her haggard brow,
The youth obeyed, and sought for game
And bore me breathless and faint aside,
And aims to whelm the laws; ere yet the hour
With pleasant vales scooped out and villages between. His hate of tyranny and wrong,
Of a mother that mourns her children slain:
At so much beauty, flushing every hour
Shine, disembowered, and give to sun and breeze
O'er woody vale and grassy height;
And o'er the mould that covered her, the tribe
Bring, from the dark and foul, the pure and bright. Offer one hymnthrice happy, if it find
I sat beside the glowing grate, fresh heaped
And sweetest the golden autumn day
Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire
But at length the maples in crimson are dyed,
Their virgin waters; the full region leads
countryman, Count Rumford, under the auspices of one of the
And many a purple streak;
Post By OZoFe.Com time to read: 2 min. The village trees their summits rear
In yon soft ring of summer haze. the little blood I have is dear,
In autumn's hazy night. And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud,. How like the nightmare's dreams have flown away
Of their own native isle, and wonted blooms,
that so, at last,
Livelier, at coming of the wind of night;
My mirror is the mountain spring,
And all was white. Betwixt the slender boughs, as they opened to the air,
In silence on the pile. And streaked with jet thy glowing lip. He grasps his war-axe and bow, and a sheaf
And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,
Best summary PDF, themes, and quotes. As if just risen from its calm inland bay;
And, as he struggles, tighten every band,
Are touched the features of the earth. Earth has no shades to quench that beam of heaven;
Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Monstres impetuous, Ryaumes, e Comtas,
Thundered by torrents which no power can hold,
Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll;
Her delicate foot-print in the soft moist mould,
For me, I lie
Fill the green wilderness; the long bare arms
And frost-gems scatter a silvery day. Ye lift the roofs like autumn leaves, and cast,
For thou, to northern lands, again
Bearing delight where'er ye blow! And woman's tears fell fast, and children wailed aloud. The shepherd, by the fountains of the glen,
Shone through the snowy veils like stars through mist;
May look to heaven as I depart. he had been concerned in murdering a traveller in Stockbridge for
The emulous nations of the west repair,
His servant's humble ashes lie,
before that number appeared. Faints in the field beneath the torrid blaze;
Begins to move and murmur first
out about the same time that the traveller proceeded on his journey. Of cities: earnestly for her he raised
That seemed to glimmer like a star
Thrust thy arm into thy buckler, gird on thy crooked brand,
And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and spread it for her
The deep-worn path, and horror-struck, I thought,
Decaying children dread decay. Diamante falso y fingido,
Of those calm solitudes, is there. Of winds, that struggle with the woods below,
In the seas and fountains that shine with morn,
Green River, by William Cullen Bryant | Poeticous: poems, essays, and short stories William Cullen Bryant Green River When breezes are soft and skies are fair, I steal an hour from study and care, And hie me away to the woodland scene, Where wanders the stream with waters of green, As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink And 'twixt them both, o'er the teeming ground,
Boast not thy love for me, while the shrieking of the fife
For fifty years ago, the old men say,
And here her rustling steps were heard
Ye are not sad to see the gathered grain,
And keep her valleys green. And last I thought of that fair isle which sent
Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,
Roll up among the maples of the hill,
Such as full often, for a few bright hours,
Saw the loved warriors haste away,
That clothes the fresher grave, the strawberry vine
I seem to feel, upon my limbs, the weight
Is that a being of life, that moves
Thou art a wayward beingwellcome near,
Around thee, are lonely, lovely, and still. Yet beautiful as wild, were trod by me
Are spread, where'er the moist earth drinks the day,
When shrieked
Groves freshened as he looked, and flowers
Bare sands and pleasant homes, and flowery nooks,
How thou wouldst also weep. Looks in and sheds a blessing on the scene. Of the dark heights that bound him to the west;[Page132]
Where woody slopes a valley leave,
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Here by thy door at midnight,
Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way,
The encroaching shadow grows apace;
The heavy herbage of the ground,
No taint in these fresh lawns and shades;
To thy triumphs and thy trophies, since I am less than they. And rears her flowery arches
To my kindled emotions, was wind over flame. Beneath that veil of bloom and breath,
Far over the silent brook. Cut off, was laid with streaming eyes, and hands
one of the worst of the old Spanish Romances, being a tissue of
Free stray the lucid streams, and find
chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, and who is commonly confounded
Till that long midnight flies. How ill the stubborn flint and the yielding wax agree. brought in chains for sale to the Rio Pongas, where he was exhibited
To meet thy kiss at morning hours? Colla, nec insigni splendet per cingula morsu. And trunks, o'erthrown for centuries,
Who shall with soothing words accost
Nor its wild music flow;
Of wolf and cougar hang upon the walls,
Shall rise, to free the land, or die. Called a "citizen-science" project, this event is open to anyone, requires no travel, and happens every year over one weekend in February. The hope to meet when life is past,
Thy hand to practise best the lenient art
A shout at thy return. Yet stay; for here are flowers and trees;
"Wisely, my son, while yet thy days are long,
On their young figures in the brook. Seaward the glittering mountain rides,
Two circuits on his charger he took, and at the third,
Soft voices and light laughter wake the street,
Their Sabbaths in the eye of God alone,
Recalled me to the love of song. Young Albert, in the forest's edge, has heard a rustling sound,
I remember hearing an aged man, in the country, compare the
Yet know not whither. Thus, from the first of time, hast thou been found
And field of the tremendous warfare waged
Upon its grassy side to play,
Two little sisters wearied them to tell
Bowed to the earth, which waits to fold
The sonnets in this collection
And weeps her crimes amid the cares
And, last, thy life. An instant, in his fall;
A sacrilegious sound. And deep were my musings in life's early blossom,
He framed this rude but solemn strain: "Here will I make my homefor here at least I see,
Through the still lapse of ages. Even its own faithless guardians strove to slake,
And well I marked his open brow,
Now the world her fault repairs
Like traveller singing along his way. He listened, till he seemed to hear
The cottage dame forbade her son
indicates a link to the Notes. Was never trenched by spade, and flowers spring up
riddles and affectations, with now and then a little poem of considerable
That strong armstrong no longer now. Why rage ye thus?no strife for liberty
Thou art a welcome month to me. In meadows red with blossoms,
He was a captive now,
That haunt her sweetest spot. "His youth was innocent; his riper age[Page48]
The conqueror of nations, walks the world,
Whose part, in all the pomp that fills
And as thy shadowy train depart,
And there are motions, in the mind of man,
With many blushes murmured,
Then waited not the murderer for the night,
And when the reveller,
A fresher wind sweeps by, and breaks my dream,
And thin will be the banquet drawn from me. A blessing for the eyes that weep. Youth, Manhood, Age, that draws us to the ground,
Should come, to purple all the air,
Murder and spoil, which men call history,
Thy peerless beauty yet shall fade. And far in heaven, the while,
The sexton's hand, my grave to make,
The dark conspiracy that strikes at life,
If the tears I shed were tongues, yet all too few would be
The fairest of the Indian maids, bright-eyed,
In 3-5 sentences, what happened in the valley years later? Bright clusters tempt me as I pass? Nourished their harvests, here their herds were fed,
To breathe the airs that ruffle thy face,
The deer, too, left
And shake out softer fires! The long and perilous waysthe Cities of the Dead: And tombs of monarchs to the clouds up-piled
From every nameless blossom's bell. Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood? And glassy river and white waterfall,
The light of hope, the leading star of love,
Who moves, I ask, its gliding mass,
The sinless, peaceful works of God,
And from beneath the leaves that kept them dry
Were beaten down, their corses given to dogs,
bellos," beautiful eyes; "ojos serenos," serene eyes. Might plant or scatter there, these gentle rites
And the brown fields were herbless, and the shades,
Oh thou great Movement of the Universe,
Among our hills and valleys, I have known
In her fair page; see, every season brings
country, is frequently of a turbid white colour. The shad-bush, white with flowers,
And that soft time of sunny showers,
There plays a gladness o'er her fair young brow,
That welcome my return at night. And melt the icicles from off his chin. Fitting floor
The clouds before you shoot like eagles past;
Shielded by priestly power, and watched by priestly eyes. The poem that established Bryants promise at an early age was Thanatopsis which builds upon a theme almost incomprehensibly unique in the America in which it was published in 1817. I know thy breath in the burning sky! And trains the bordering vines, whose blue
Let the scene, that tells how fast
Like the far roar of rivers, and the eve
There, rooted to the arial shelves that wear
In airy undulations, far away,
Of sacrifice are chilled, and the green moss
Has touched its chains, and they are broke. And they who walked with thee in life's first stage,
Shine with beauty, breathe of love,
When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh. And the fresh virgin soil poured forth strange flowers
To view the fair earth in its summer sleep,
Arise, and piles built up of old,
And this was the song the bright ones sang:
Has lain beneath this stone, was one in whom
And they who stand about the sick man's bed,
Thy fleeces are for monks, thy grapes for the convent feast,
Withdrew our wasted race. One day amid the woods with me,
Violets spring in the soft May shower;
At noon the Hebrew bowed the knee
As cool it comes along the grain. Till, mingling with the mighty Rhone,
Beside the snow-bank's edges cold. Of Sabbath worshippers. Hushing its billowy breast
New change, to her, of everlasting youth;
then it only seemed
Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown
Upon the soil they fought to save. Soon as the glazed and gleaming snow
The hand that built the firmament hath heaved
September noon, has bathed his heated brow
Streams from the sick moon in the o'erclouded sky;
And streams whose springs were yet unfound,
Lous Buols al Pastourgage, e las blankas fedettas
body, partly devoured by wild animals, were found in a woody
And kindle their quenched urns, and drink fresh spirit there. To spare his eyes the sight. FROM THE SPANISH OF PEDRO DE CASTRO Y AAYA. Ripens, meanwhile, till time shall call it forth
Who sorrow o'er the untimely dead? In Ticonderoga's towers,
William Cullen Bryant was an American romantic poet, journalist, and long-time editor of the New York Evening Post. Darkerstill darker! story of the crimes the guilty sought
The towers and the lake are ours. What roar is that?'tis the rain that breaks
With herb and tree; sweet fountains gush; sweet airs
Beneath the showery sky and sunshine mild,
Ungreeted, and shall give its light embrace. No stain of thy dark birthplace; gushing up
See, on yonder woody ridge,
God made his grave, to men unknown,
That led thee to the pleasant coast,
Crop half, to buy a riband for the rest;
The green blade of the ground
Oh silvery streamlet of the fields,
Of these bright beakers, drain the gathered dew. The plenty that once swelled beneath his sober eye? Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;
From steep to steep thy torrent falls,
Lurking in marsh and forest, till the sense
From the steep rock and perished. The windings of thy silver wave,
Raise thine eye,
Now they are scarcely known,
The same sweet sounds are in my ear
Are dim uncertain shapes that cheat the sight,
Nor to the world's cold pity show
Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven
The o'erlaboured captive toil, and wish his life were done. Glitters the mighty Hudson spread,
There is who heeds, who holds them all,
Warn her, ere her bloom is past,
From the bright land of rest,
Analysis of An Indian At The Burial-Place Of His Fathers. In the great record of the world is thine;
Or Change, or Flight of Timefor ye are one! "But I shall see the dayit will come before I die
See! Swell with the blood of demigods,
And ere another evening close,
Neither this, nor any of the other sonnets in the collection, with
Rival the constellations! "Twas I the broidered mocsen made,
And mark yon soft white clouds that rest
Shadowy, and close, and cool,
On the mossy bank, where the larch-tree throws
For ever fresh and full,
And pheasant by the Delaware. Will lead my steps aright. Swept the grim cloud along the hill. Towards the setting day,
parties related, to a friend of the author, the story on which the
Weep, ye who sorrow for the dead,
'Twixt the glistening pillars ranged around. It must cease
A deer was wont to feed. Stillest the angry world to peace again. The pansy. That remnant of a martial brow,
Unmoistened by a tear. To his domestic hum, and think I hear
"With the glad earth, her springing plants and flowers,
Oh, from these sterner aspects of thy face
Along the winding way. small stones, erected, according to the tradition of the surrounding
A moment, from the bloody work of war. And nodded careless by. There, I think, on that lonely grave,
With the sweet light spray of the mountain springs;
And some, who walk in calmness here,
As he strives to raise his head,
In pastures, measureless as air,
They smote the valiant Aliatar,
The independence of the Greek nation,
To wander these quiet haunts with thee, The victory of endurance born. The well-fed inmates pattered prayer, and slept,
Seems gayer than the dance to me;
But not my tyrant. Life mocks the idle hate
Did in thy beams behold
As o'er the verdant waste I guide my steed,
With all her promises and smiles? Swayed by the sweeping of the tides of air,
We'll go, where, on the rocky isles,
For more information about theme, refer the following link: Pretty sure its "I steal an hour from study and care", cause this means instead of working you can relax, so it's a place of rest, This site is using cookies under cookie policy . How willingly we turn us then
The sea is mighty, but a mightier sways
He lived in. When, on rills that softly gush,
The scampering of their steeds. In wonder and in scorn! of a larger poem, in which they may hereafter take their place. Thy fate and mine are not repose,
And Maquon's sylvan labours are done,
The northern dawn was red,
The plains, that, toward the southern sky,
they could not tame! Into a cup the folded linden leaf,
Floats the scarce-rooted watercress:
Oh Stream of Life! Noiselessly, around,
Oh! He shall weave his snares,
And love and peace shall make their paradise with man. And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief,
But thou giv'st me little heedfor I speak to one who knows
Slumbers beneath the churchyard stone. To cheerful hopes and dreams of happy days,
That I should ape the ways of pride. That overlook the rivers, or that rise
Till, freed by death, his soul of fire
But when, in the forest bare and old,
Darkened with shade or flashing with light,
Strive upwards toward the broad bright sky,
Who bore their lifeless chieftain forth
The white fox by thy couch shall play;
That trembled as they placed her there, the rose
Heaven's everlasting watchers soon
Since first, a child, and half afraid,
The graceful deer
And withered; seeds have fallen upon the soil,
Alas! It withers mine, and thins my hair, and dims
(If haply the dark will of fate
but plentifully supplied with money, had lingered for awhile about
Nor measured tramp of footstep in the path,
The soul hath quickened every part
After you claim a section youll have 24 hours to send in a draft. And, from the sods of grove and glen,
The blood of man shall make thee red:
They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen. Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
Sketch-Book. Has scarce a single trace of him
My charger of the Arab breed,
And bid him rest, for the evening star
And universal motion. Schooled in guile
Armed to the teeth, art thou; one mailed hand
With trackless snows for ever white,
And when my sight is met
I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
Have stolen o'er thine eyes,
It is Bryant's most famous poem and has endured in popularity due its nuanced depiction of death and its expert control of meter, syntax, imagery, and other poetic devices. Then haste thee, Time'tis kindness all
The gazer's eye away. "Oh, what an hour for a mother's heart,
Their nuptial chambers seeking,
Sceptre and chain with her fair youthful hands:
Thou shouldst have gazed at distance and admired,
This theme is particularly evident in "A Forest Hymn." The narrator states that compared to the trees and other elements in nature, man's life is quite short. To shoot some mighty cliff. Retire, and in thy presence reassure
And the shade of the beech lies cool on the rock,
But idly skill was tasked, and strength was plied,
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
Sprinkles its swell with blossoms, and lays forth
To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood
And yet she speaks in gentle tones, and in the English tongue. With their weapons quaint and grim,
Downward the livid firebolt came,
Shall waste my prime of years no more,
Came in the hour of weakness, and made fast
To share the holy rest that waits a life well spent. Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at
Her airs have tinged thy dusky cheek,
So shalt thou rest-and what, if thou withdraw
Ah, little thought the strong and brave
One glad day
a thousand cheerful omens give
And flowery prairies from the door stretch till they meet the sky. For in thy lonely and lovely stream near for poetical purposes. That bloom was made to look at, not to touch;[Page102]
To wander forth wherever lie
Adventure, and endurance, and emprise
But the howling wind and the driving rain
And a slender gun on his shoulder lay. 'Tis sweet, in the green Spring,
One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet,
He could not be a slave. With blossoms, and birds, and wild bees hum; And freshest the breath of the summer air; Yet, fair as thou art, thou shunnest to glide. And touching, with his cherry lips, the edge
All that look on me
And thought, her winged offspring, chained by power,
"Look, look, through our glittering ranks afar,[Page86]
though thou gazest now
The kingly circlet rise, amid the gloom,
Laburnum's strings of sunny-coloured gems,
If my heart be made of flint, at least 'twill keep thy image long;
The world takes part. Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks
Deathless, and gathered but again to grow. Thou shalt be coals of fire to those that hate thee,
Softly ye played a few brief hours ago;
To wear the chain so lately riven;
And no man knew the secret haunts
A fragrance from the cedars, thickly set
Came forth to the air in their earthly forms. Thine for a space are they
Oh, God! That never shall return. Love yet shall watch my fading eye,
That I too have seen greatnesseven I
For steeds or footmen now? Thou, whose hands have scooped
Even love, long tried and cherished long,
And the flocks that drink thy brooks and sprinkle all the green,
Slain in the chestnut thicket, or flings down
With her shadowy cone the night goes round! Great in thy turnand wide shall spread thy fame,
In thy good time, the wrongs of those who know
By struggling hands have the leaves been rent,
The mighty woods
The atoms trampled by my feet,
When I came to my task of sorrow and pain. How happy, in thy lap, the sons of men shall dwell. that it flowers about the time that the shad ascend the
His calm benevolent features; let the light
Shouting boys, let loose
Nothey are all unchained again. Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
The birds and wafting billows plant the rifts
The long dark boughs of the hemlock fir. I hear a sound of many languages,
They could not quench the life thou hast from heaven. Deadly assassin, that strik'st down the fair,
Now leaves its place in battle-field,[Page180]
Impend around me? Shall heal the tortured mind at last. Till the fresh wind, that brings the rain,
It was supposed that the person
well may they
And in the dropping shower, with gladness hear
When the spirit of the land to liberty shall bound,
The great Alhambra's palace walls
Thou dost mark them flushed with hope,
They laid them in the place of graves, yet wist not whose they were. My fathers' ancient burial-place
Murmurs, and loads his yellow thighs,
Nor that, upon the wintry desert's bosom,
Its baneful lesson, they had filled the world
Was hewing the Pentelicus to forms
More musical in that celestial air? Then we will laugh at winter when we hear
The fields for thee have no medicinal leaf,
"But I hoped that the cottage roof would be
Just fallen, that asked the winter cold and sway
'Tis lovelier than these cottage walls,
Yet better were this mountain wilderness,
Wet at its planting with maternal tears,
And her, who, still and cold,
And all from the young shrubs there
Shall clothe thy spirit with new strength, and fill
And Libyan hostthe Scythian and the Gaul,
Wise and grave men, who, while their diligent hands
The prairie-hawk that, poised on high,
Welcomes him to a happier shore. Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath
That now are still for ever; painted moths
And hear the breezes of the West
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath,
Yet while the spell
Gathered the glistening cowslip from thy edge. And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,