Ii

All the air is liveried In a kind of white; It is not like the darkness Or the light; It is like the covenant Of a clearer sight.

Now a sudden bud is born Burning in the dew; There the fog rose palely lifting All as if it knew The faint flowing speech Of the friendly blue.

Oh the little hurrying wing Like a blowing leaf; Oh the shadows gathering in Many a sheaf; There a cloud is carved like some Airy coral reef.

Like a new sense these venture In the veins and lo, All the blood is musical In its beat and flow; And we wait wondering What new thing we know.