Like fairy clouds upon the vernal sky,
And every gale is burdened with the gush
Of music, free, wild music, yet, lost one,
Through all these wildering melodies, that voice
As from the very heart of nature comes,
“Alas! she is not here!” But list! oh, list!
From the eternal depths of yonder sky,
From where the flash of sun and star is dim
In uncreated light, an angel strain,
As sweet as that in which the morning stars