Straight, like a plummet grew towards the ground. 

 Some on the lower boughs which cross'd their way. 

 Fixing their bearded fibres round and round, 

 With many a ring and wild contortion wound : 

 Some to the passing wind at times, with sway 



Of gentle motion swung ; 

 Others of deeper growth, unmov'd, were hung 

 Like stone-drops from the cavern's fretted height. 



Beneath was fair and smooth to sight, 

 Nor weeds nor briars deform'd the natural floor ; 

 And through the leafy cope which bower'd it o*er 

 Came gleams of chequer'd light. 

 So like a temple did it seem, that there, 

 A pious heart's first impulse would be prayer ! 



A brook with easy current murmur'd near; 



Water so cool and clear, 

 The peasants drink not from the humble well, 

 Which they, with sacrifice of rural pride, 

 Have wedded to the cocoa-grove beside ; 

 Nor tanks of costliest masonry dispense 

 To those in towns who dwell, 

 The work of kings in their beneficence. 

 Fed by perpetual springs, a small lagoon, 

 Pellucid, deep, and still, in silence join'd 

 And swell'd the passing stream. Like burnish'd steel 

 Glowing it lay, beneath the eye of noon ! 

 And when the breezes in their play, 

 Ruffled the darkening surface, then, with gleam 



Of sudden light, around the lotus stem 

 It rippl'd, and the sacred flowers that crown 

 The lakelet with their roseate beauty, ride, 

 In gentlest waving, rock'd, from side to side; 

 And as the wind upheaves 

 Their broad and buoyant weight, the glossy leaves 

 Flap on the twinkling waters, up and down. 



