The following may stand as instances of his failure in precise delineation. In the very first stanza of the book we have:
Hues of the rich unfolding morn,
That ere the glorious sun be born,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Around his path are taught to swell.
"Swell" is a property of bulk or sound, surely not of light? Again,
addressing the breeze, he says:
Wakenest each little leaf to sing.
This is purely conventional; how different from the "laurel's pattering talk" of Tennyson. Again:
The torrent rill
That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell,
Touched by the blue mist well.
How weak a word to end a stanza! Again:
The birds of heaven before us fleet,
They cannot brook our shame to meet.
How falsetto, how prejudiced a tone! And these are not isolated instances: similar infelicities occur on every page.