II.
Beneath this roof of maple boughs, whose screen
Of thick, young leaves is painted in the brook,
The golden summer hath a pleasant look,
Caught from blue, stainless skies, and hill-tops green
With field and forest. Deep within this nook
Of bright, smooth waters, where the lace-like fern
Is pictured with the wild-flower's crimson urn,
And thickets by the winds of noontide shook:
Amid the twinkling green and silver, lies
His glorious image; clouds that sweep the vale,
White wood-hawks breasting the sweet August gale,
Inverted forests, and serenest skies
Scooped out below the loose and glittering sand,
With many a glimpse of town and sunny mountain land.