On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.

A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.

With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.

Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.

Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.