And through the very atmosphere she breathes,
Broad, clear, and toned harmoniously, with skill
That might from nature have been learnt in the hour 20
When the lone shepherd sees the morning spread
Upon the mountains. Look at her, whoe’er
Thou be that, kindling with a poet’s soul,
Hast loved the painter’s true Promethean craft
Intensely—from Imagination take 25
The treasure,—what mine eyes behold see thou,
Even though the Atlantic ocean roll between.