And incense, such as riseth after showers
Upon deep gardens, hiding in their bowers
The inmost heart of sweetness.
Still my way
Drew on, between high-window’d walls and old,
That to the street an ancient story told,
With solemn mien unto Life’s changing day,
In restless ebb and flow, as sea-waves play
About the feet of lonely cliff’s; tho’ now
Even these I pass’d, as fleeting things and vain,