Sweet after showers, ambrosial air,
      That rollest from the gorgeous gloom
      Of evening over brake and bloom
And meadow, slowly breathing bare

The round of space, and rapt below
      Thro' all the dewy-tassell'd wood,
      And shadowimg down the horned flood
In ripples, fan my brows and blow

The fever from my cheek, and sigh
      The full new life that feeds thy breath
      Throughout my frame, till Doubt and Death,
Ill brethren, let the fancy fly

From belt to belt of crimson seas
      On leagues of odour streaming far,
      To where in yonder orient star
A hundred spirits whisper "Peace."


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Last modified 16 February 2010