That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.

And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.

Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.

Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk; and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.

Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!