moonshine, as the immensity of ocean fills, The Sons 

 wave after wave, at moonrise, when a cloud is °f the 

 slowly uplifted by mysterious withdrawing m° ? 

 airs ! Then, truly, was Dreamland no longer 

 a phantasy of sleep, but a loveliness so great 

 that, like deep music, there could be no words 

 wherewith to measure it, but only the breath- 

 less unspoken speech of the soul upon whom 

 has fallen the secret dews. 



75 



