Of hurrying clouds that ever onward press,
As something seeking that doth e’er elude,
Flying like thing pursued that dare not rest,
By some wild, haunting thought of fear possessed——
Not drearness all, the cloud-swept solitude:——
Through changing rifts the starlit blue gives sign
Of mountain nearness unto things divine.
IV.—DAWN.
Slow breaks the daily mystery of dawn——
In far-off skies gleams faint the unfolding light,