In maiden silence, she that makes my fate
Haply not knowing it, or only so
As I the secrets of my sheep may know.”
In Lanier’s rich and melodious “Hymns of the Marshes” there are innumerable touches in the style of Keats; for example, his apostrophe to the
“Reverend marsh, low-couched along the sea,
Old chemist, wrapped in alchemy,
Distilling silence,——”
or his praise of the
“Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fire,
Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire,