Graven, as with a thousand diamond spears,

Of thine unending volume. Every leaf,

That lifts itself within thy wide domain,

Doth gather greenness from thy living spray,

Yet tremble at the baptism. Lo! yon birds

Do boldly venture near, and bathe their wing

Amid thy mist and foam. ’Tis meet for them

To touch thy garment’s hem, and lightly stir

The snowy leaflets of thy vapor wreath,

For they may sport unharmed amid the cloud,