or in
For some three careless moans
The summer pilot of an empty heart.
—Gardener’s Daughter.
No poet since Milton has employed what is known as Onomatopoeia with so much effect. Not to go farther than the poems of 1842, we have in the Morte d’Arthur:—
So all day long the noise of battle rolled
Among the mountains by the winter sea;
or
Dry clashed his harness in the icy caves
And barren chasms, and all to left and right
The bare black cliff clang’d round him, as he bas’d
His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang
Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels—
or the exquisite
I heard the water lapping on the crag,
And the long ripple washing in the reeds.
So in The Dying Swan,
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds.