Is this to wandering spirits given,
Such stillness on the face of heaven?
The fleecy clouds that sleep above,
Are like the wing of beauteous dove,
And the leaf of the elm-tree does not move!
Yet they are coming! and they are three!
Jesu! Maria! can it be?
THE CONCLUSION.
Sleep on, fair maiden of Borrowdale!
Sleep! O sleep! and do not wake!