Author Mortimer Collins With it, the air we breathe intoxicates Our spirits with unceasing glee: the sky Rains music from its blue immensity;Rhyme, rhyme immortal on our utterance waits; No end, no efflux of our joy can come—For we are demigods, and earth's Elysium. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments