Greeting thine advent: and—how richly fraught—
A myriad dewdrops, hung on mountain pines,
Offer up incense! Ocean’s cup presents thy draught.
And then how enjoyable it is to inhale the perfume of a million flowers from some eminence in the open country! It reminds one of the poet’s Address to the Morning (from Blackwood):—
Oh morn! from countless cups of gold,
Thou liftest reverently on high
More incense fine than earth can hold,
To fill the sky!
