Page:Ambarvalia - Clough (1849).djvu/120

 Conceived and let as willingly escape, Since I stood last beside thee, feeding thus Calm verse from a calm heart. Delicious nest Of shadow, with sweet inlet for the sun Through loopholes of the orange or the vine Have I enjoyed, while veins of crystal water Broke at my side from mountains lost in air; Sweet chapels of the pinewoods, odorous With natural incense, where a million stems On every side with all their lights and shades Made glimmering walls, that, serving to confine The worshipping fancy, sank before the eye Each in an endless distance, an abyss Of columns, exquisitely soaring up From mossy floors, smooth as a tranquil lake, Into the figured darkness overhead; Nor (nearer thine own kind, sweet native cell!) Among soft hills by rivers broad and soft, Have nooks and quiet foldings of the banks Green as thyself, been wanting, where to sit Watching an evening sun, or leisurely Tracking the leisure of the noonday clouds.

O little native cell, clear is thy spring And green thy Birch-tree with its myriad threads One image seen, for ever soaring up,