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(Excerpt)
A STRONG sea-wind flies up and sings | |
| Across the blown-wet border, | |
| Whose stormy echo runs and rings | |
| Like bells in wild disorder. | |
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| Fierce breath hath vext the foreland’s face, | 5 |
| It glistens, glooms, and glistens; | |
| But deep within this quiet place | |
| Sweet Illa lies and listens. | |
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| Sweet Illa of the shining sands, | |
| She sleeps in shady hollows | 10 |
| Where August flits with flowerful hands | |
| And silver Summer follows. | |
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| Far up the naked hills is heard | |
| A noise of many waters; | |
| But green-haired Illa lies unstirred | 15 |
| Amongst her star-like daughters. | |
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| The tempest pent in moaning ways | |
| Awakes the shepherd yonder; | |
| But Illa dreams, unknown to days | |
| Whose wings are wind and thunder. | 20 |
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| Here fairy hands and floral feet | |
| Are brought by bright October; | |
| Here stained with grapes, and smit with heat, | |
| Comes Autumn sweet and sober. | |
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| Here lovers rest, what time the red | 25 |
| And yellow colors mingle, | |
| And daylight droops with dying head | |
| Beyond the western dingle. | |
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| And here, from month to month, the time | |
| Is kissed by Peace and Pleasure, | 30 |
| While Nature sings her woodland rhyme | |
| And hoards her woodland treasure. * * * * * | |
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