In the same peace around me, and the sky
Holds up her stars; now in the rain-drenched wood
The tree-toad drinks the rain and finds it good,
And trills for joy—the sliding waters grieve
Quietly—now the bat begins to weave
With intricate motion on the cloudy loom,
Of glamourous starlight mingled and gray gloom,
His dipping flight among the darkened boughs
And dreamy vistas; and the little mouse
Furtively hurries through the lane, his eye