And round the sinking Pleiads bend and blow;
A rosy banner and a silver ship.
IN MAY.
The clouds that veil the early day
Are very near and soft and fine,
The heaven peeps between the gray,
A luminous and pearly line.
The breeze is up, now soft, now full,
And moulds the vapor light as fleece,
It trembles, then, with drip and lull,