What plummet, seas, to sound you——
All the long reaches spun out silver-white—
Turn you, and cast drowned riches?
Or how again, O velvet nipht,
When the sky, stooping with its glittering load
About the elf-locks of the curlous grass,
Scatters its sparklings, will you part almost
Upon the quintessential host?
Or how, the figment spirit sleeping,
Can it render body ghost,
In its dream unseat the heavy monarch,
Conjure to the bleak wild coast
Its sunk, its deep delight,