The flood beyond, to the fiery west,
Spread out like a metal mirror’s breast;
But that lone bay, in its dimness deep,
Seem’d made for the swimmer’s joyous leap,
For the stag athirst from the noontide chase,
For all free things of the wild wood’s race.
Like a falcon’s glance on the wide blue sky,
Was the kindling flash of the boy’s glad eye;
Like a sea-bird’s flight to the foaming wave,
From the shadowy bank was the bound he gave;