IN dewy splendor from afar, -
With noiseless sweep, like angel's wing -
In soft caressing shroud, the earth;
E'er floating, like a gentle breath,
New-wafted from the farthest star,
Come, ever fleeting,
Aimless spirits of the Mist.
Where mighty oceans throb, they play;
Some haunt the cataract's wild roar.
They rise at twilight, like the ghost
Of vanished time - a serried host,
E'er vanquished by the glance of day.
Weeping Spirits of the Mist!
J. S. M.