Rocks and dim caverns of old Prophecy—
Woke to respond: and all the air was fill’d
With that one sighing sound—Farewell! farewell!
Fill’d with that sound? High in the calm blue heav’n
Even then a skylark hung; soft summer clouds
Were floating round him, all transpierced with light,
And midst that pearly radiance his dark wings
Quiver’d with song: such free, triumphant song,
As if tears were not,—as if breaking hearts
Had not a place below; and thus that strain