M. T. W.
Far swept from Lundy, spanned from side to side
With heaven's blue arch, the ocean waters flow;
Sweet May has piled her pyramids of snow,
And the fair land is glorious as a bride,
That chooses summer for her hour of pride:
The lordly sun, with his great heart a-glow,
Is fain to kiss all things that bud and blow,
And Maurice sleeps, nor hears the murmuring tide.
Fine spirit, wheresoe'er, a quester keen,
You mark the asphodel with prints of pearl,
Breathing the freshness of the early lawns;
O darling, clad in light of tend'rest sheen,
Hard by the nest of some celestial merle
We yet shall see you when the morning dawns.
With heaven's blue arch, the ocean waters flow;
Sweet May has piled her pyramids of snow,
And the fair land is glorious as a bride,
That chooses summer for her hour of pride:
The lordly sun, with his great heart a-glow,
Is fain to kiss all things that bud and blow,
And Maurice sleeps, nor hears the murmuring tide.
Fine spirit, wheresoe'er, a quester keen,
You mark the asphodel with prints of pearl,
Breathing the freshness of the early lawns;
O darling, clad in light of tend'rest sheen,
Hard by the nest of some celestial merle
We yet shall see you when the morning dawns.
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