That the tall sky seemed touched; and all the trees Thrilled with the coming harmonies;

And the fair waters looked as if they lay

Their cheek against the sound, and so went kissed

away.

And more remains; (such things are in Heaven's

ears

Besides the grander spheres):

For as the racks came sleeking on, one fell

With rain into a dell,

Breaking with scatter of a thousand notes

Like twangling pearl; and I perceived how she Who loosed it with her hands, pressed kneadingly, As though it had been wine in grapy coats;

And out it gushed, with that enchanting sound, In a wet shadow to the ground.

But they came on; and I must tell you now
How they looked at me smilingly; and how
They circled the green mount in a white ring,
Making a crown to it, like large, unspread,
White, dabbled roses upon Flora's head:
For so they did; and thus did they all sing;-

Ho! We are the Nepheliads, we,

Who bring the clouds from the great sea,
And have within our happy care

All the love 'twixt earth and air.

We it is with soft new showers
Wash the eyes of the young flowers;
And with many a silvery comer
In the sky, delight the summer;
And our bubbling freshness bringing,
Set the thirsty brooks a singing,

Till they run for joy, and turn
Every mill-wheel down the burn.

We too tread the mightier mass

Of clouds that take whole days to pass;
And are sometimes forced to pick

With fiery arrows through the thick,
Till the cracking racks asunder

Roll, and awe the world with thunder.
Then the seeming freshness shoots,
And clears the air, and cleans the fruits,
And runs, heart-cooling, to the roots.

Sometimes on the shelves of mountains Do we rest our burly fountains; Sometimes for a rainbow run

Right before the laughing sun;

And if we slip down to earth

With the rain for change of mirth,
Worn-out winds and pattering leaves

Are what we love; and dripping eaves
Dotting on the sleepy stone;

And a leafy nook and lone,

Where the bark on the small treen

Is with moisture always green';

And lime-tree bowers, and grass-edged lanes
With little ponds that hold the rains,

Where the nice-eyed wagtails glance,
Sipping 'twixt their jerking dance.

But at night in heaven we sleep,
Halting our scattered clouds like sheep;
Or are passed with sovereign eye

By the Moon, who rideth by

D

With her sidelong face serene,
Like a most benignant queen.

Then on the lofty-striking state
Of the up-coming Sun we wait,
Shewing to the world yet dim

The colours that we catch from him,

Ere he reaches to his height,

And lets abroad his leaping light.

And then we part on either hand

For the day; but take our stand

Again with him at eventide,

Where we stretch on either side

Our lengthened heaps, and split in shows

Of sharp-drawn isles in sable rows, With some more faint, or flowery red;

And some, like bands of hair that spread