And on through zones of light and shadow
Glimmer away to the lonely deep.
—To the Rev. F. D. Maurice.
Or here of waters falling high up on mountains:—
Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke.
—The Princess.
Or of a water-fall seen at a distance:—
And like a downward smoke the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
Or here again:—
We left the dying ebb that faintly lipp’d
The flat red granite.
Or here of a wave:—
Like a wave in the wild North Sea
Green glimmering toward the summit bears with all
Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies
Down on a bark.
—Elaine.
That beech will gather brown,
This maple burn itself away.
—In Memoriam.
The wide-wing’d sunset of the misty marsh.
—Last Tournament.
But illustrations would be endless. Nothing seems to escape him in Nature. Take the following:—