Of outward nature, ... of the whispering leaves
That soothed his ear, ... the genial breath of Heaven
That fann’d his cheek, ... the stream’s perpetual flow,
That, with its shadows and its glancing lights,
Dimples and thread-like motions infinite,
For ever varying and yet still the same,
Like time toward eternity, ran by.
Resting his head upon his master’s knees,
Upon the bank beside him Theron lay.
What matters change of state and circumstance,