Fresh from my soul, fresh from its limpid source,
I pour my subtle influence—I rain
Odyllic Force.
I say unto the weather—"Be thou fine!"
And straightway, if it be not foul, 'tis fair.
Nay, at my word the very sun will shine
If it should haply chance no clouds are there.
And should the temperature not fall below
The freezing point, until the twenty-first
Frost shall be all unknown, and ice and snow,