Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/81



YE Clouds! that far above me float and pause'
 * Whose pathless march no mortal may controul!
 * Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll,

Yield homage only to eternal laws! Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds' singing,
 * Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclin'd.

Save when your own imperious branches swinging
 * Have made a solemn music of the wind!

Where, like a man belov'd of God, Through glooms, which never woodman trod,
 * How oft, pursuing fancies holy,

My moonlight way o'er flow'ring weeds I wound,
 * Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,

By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound! O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!
 * And O ye Clouds that far above me soar'd!