And these bright ocean-birds, these billow-rangers,
The snowy-breasted,—each a winged wave—
They tell me how to joy in storm and dangers,
When surges whiten, or when whirlwinds rave.
And these green-stretching fields, these peaceful hollows,
That hear the tempest, but take no alarm,
Has not their placid verdue sweetly taught me
The peace within when all without is storm?
And thou keen sun-flash, through the cloud-wreath bursting,
Silvering the sea, the sward, the rock, the foam,