Like droppings of nectar, from angel lips glowing—
And God is the Fountain, O, Poesy bright,
Whose waters now flood me with mystic delight!
THE WATER.
The water, see it, leaps from the mountain's high brow,
Like a roll of smooth silver, and laughingly now
See, it skips, like a child, through the valley so green,
Throwing beauty and blithesomeness over the scene.