V

Yet morning promised much: for, pitched and slung and reared On terrace 'neath the tower, 'twixt tree and tree appeared An airy structure; how the pennon from its dome, Frenetic to be free, makes one red stretch for home! The home far and away, the distance where lives joy, The cure, at once and ever, of world and world's annoy; Since, what lolls full in front, a furlong from the booth, But ocean-idleness, sky-blue and millpond-smooth?