As this and that wing of an angel, fixed,
Tumultuary splendours folded in
To die.
As usual, Spring enchants him. The second book begins with her coming, and predicates the coming change in Sordello's soul.
The woods were long austere with snow; at last
Pink leaflets budded on the beech, and fast
Larches, scattered through pine-tree solitudes,
Brightened, as in the slumbrous heart of the woods
Our buried year, a witch, grew young again
To placid incantations, and that stain