Look now! The crested waters sleep...

Look now! The crested waters sleep . . . . . . . . White stars their emerald twilight keep Above the tryst of pensile glories That kiss to purple-and-gold the deep.

Blossoms the rose red as its name; The trees aspire to heaven, like flame; Articulate the gold-eyed songsters; While angels lean from their place of fame.

O sleep, sleep now, sleep silverly, Radiant, divine, deep-bosomed sea! Thy cradle rocks to skyey breathings, Bright fall Love's shadows on you and me.