V

Sudden conch o'er the wave ringeth! Ere the date-leaves cease to snake, All, that hath existence, springeth Into broad light, wide-awake.

As at a window of heaven thrown up, All in a dazzling blaze are shown up, Mellowing, ere our eyes avail, To some soft enchanter's tale.

Every skiff a big ship seemeth, Every bush with tall wings clad; Every man his good brain deemeth The only brain that is not mad.