Pillow'd upon their thin, aërial shrouds;
But when the breeze of dawn refreshfully
Swept the rude waters of the ocean flood,
And the dark pines breath'd from each leaf a sigh,
To wake the sylvan genius of the wood,
Thou burst in glory on our dazzled sight,
In thy resplendent charms, a flood of golden light!
TO THE MOON.
Spirit of heaven! shadow-mantled queen,
In mildest beauty peering in the sky,