Among the mossy rocks, from stone to stone, made silence musical.
Contemplating the beauty of the scene,
Imagining me the Naiad of the stream,
I grew the spirit of the place, and stood the deity of a sylvan dream.
Just then, a being, much more god than man,
Fell at my feet: I had no power to fly,
No wish, no thought; the serpent’s fabulous spell spoke in his eloquent eye.
He prayed; I listened, for his words were song,
Drowning my heart; like surf along a strand
Their melody rose and rolled, wave following wave, covering the helpless land.