All true similitudes explore.
These firs, when cease their boughs to quiver,
Stand like pagodas brahmins seek,
Yon isle, that parts the winding river,
Seems modeled from a light caique.
And fanes that in these groves are hidden,
Are sculptured like a dainty frieze,
While choral music steals unbidden,
As undulates the forest breeze.
A gothic arch and springing column,