There is a panting in the zenith—hush!—
The Swan—How strong her great wing times the silence!
She passes over high and quietly.
Now peals the living clarion anew,
One vocal shower falls in and fills the vale.
What witchery in the wilderness it plays!—
Shrill snort the affrighted deer; across the lake
The loon, sole sentinel, screams loud alarm;
The shy fox barks; tingling in every vein
I feel the wild enchantment;—hark! they come,