When thought, forsooth my vision's aim,
There hath lain before me, clear,
The silent seas, mountains, sylvan fields
That concrete many kind, stately formed;
Whether their change sought to be
Real, unreal, light or shade,
Still complete and simple o'er
Its observation's meet I did
Behold heaven, earth and
Its holy bleat upon its evolving,
Sacred, unformed of beaten hues
And altered tints arrayed.
Even damp, rainy gusts of the compass
Foretell the strangeness of wholesome greet.