A flower—the wind—the ocean—which shall wound,
Striking the electric train, wherewith we are darkly bound.”
Byron.
Yes, it is haunted, this quiet scene,
Fair as it looks, and all softly green;
Yet fear not thou—for the spell is thrown,
And the might of the shadow, on me alone.
Are thy thoughts wandering to elves and fays,
And spirits that dwell where the water plays?
Oh! in the heart there are stronger powers,