That issue forth in forms that while they move
Awake around us echoes everywhere!
We spring to spy them, but we only hear
Their rustle in the trees by which they pass;
Or where, with dash of water o’er the rocks,
They leave the sea or linger in the rill.
At times they rest a moment on the earth,
When twilight hides them, sighing gently then,
And lull to dreams, with tones in sympathy,
The lowly insect and the lowing herd.