Exquisite stillness! What serenities 
Of earth, and air! How bright atop the wall 
The stonecrop's fire and beyond the precipice 
How huge, how hushed the primrose evenfall!
How softly, too, the white crane voyages 
Yon honeyed height of warmth and silence, whence 
He can look down on islet, lake and shore 
And crowding woods and voiceless promontories 
Or, further gazing, view the magnificence 
Of cloud-like mountains and of mountainous cloud 
Or ghostly wrack below the horizon rim 
Not even his eye has vantage to explore.
Now, spirit, find out wings and mount to him, 
Wheel where he wheels, where he is soaring soar, 
Hang where now he hangs in the planisphere — 
Evening's first star and golden as a bee 
In the sun's hair — for happiness is here!