Pure and untaint, by Heavenly communings.
[She reseats herself, and contemplates the scene.
O this is beautiful! Here I could lie—
Were earth a myth and all her trials nought—
And dream soft nothings all a summer's day.
In this fair glade were surely celebrate
The nuptials of the year: and for her gift,
Fair Flora, lightly loitering on the wing
Of Zephyrus, tossed all her corbel out,
Filling the air with bloom.