Of planets poured in song their soft desires,
And glad ovations, while their vernal dreams
The leaves did whisper, and the clouds and streams
And winds their fluent exultations pour,
With sky-pavilioned ocean’s organ-roar.
THE TEUTONIC MINSTREL’S TOMB.
Far north they say there lies a wizard land,
Which has above it all the changeless year,
A silver-shining, milk-warm atmosphere,