Sounds here (on account of our height)!
And this hillock itself—who could paint it,
With its changes of shadow and light?
Is it not—(never, Eddy, say “Ain’t it”)—
Then yon desolate, eerie morasses,
The haunts of the snipe and the hern—
(I shall question the two upper classes
On aquatiles, when we return)—
Why, I see on them absolute masses