Poised on the wave, they pass the far-off shore

With heedless warblings—and the world no more

Than their wild voices, knows.

No master’s hand along the sounding wires

Guided mine own, nor taught my soul its fires;

No lessons give what heaven alone doth send:

The stream learns not from its deep source to sing—

Eagles—to cleave the skies with soaring wing—

The bee—its sweets to blend.

The bell resounding from its dome on high,