Silence 'tis awe decrees.
O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.
Who knows most, doubts most.
The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.
All poetry is difficult to read - The sense of it anyhow.
'Tis only when they spring to Heaven that angels reveal themselves to you.