The New World’s progress toward Time’s perfect day.
O mighty monitor! O seer sublime!
The soul’s surpassing grandeur thou dost show;—
The fountains of thy immemorial prime
Through man’s immortal being freely flow.
THE MEADOW AIR IS SWEET.
The meadow air is sweet;—
The cowslip’s cup of gold
Is full of fresh and fragrant dew,—
More full than it can hold.