The freshness of the space of heaven above.
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dged round with dark tree-tops ? through which a dove Would often beat its wings, and often too A little cloud would move across the blue. Full in tlie middle of this pleasantnessThere stood a marble altar, with a tressOf flowers budded newly ; and the dewHad taken fairy phantasies to strewDaisies upon the saci*ed sward last eve.And so the dawned light in pomp receive.For 't was the mom : Apollo's upward fireMade every eastern cloud a silvery pyreOf brightness so unsullied, that thereinA melancholy spiiit well might winOblivion, and melt out his essence fineInto tlie winds : rain-scented eglantineGave temperate sweets to that well-wooing son ;The lark was lost in him ; cold springs hs^ run
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