Chapter II

Therefore, my song floats softly up to thee,
Full soft as those sweet zephyrs of the spring,
Of which it was and is and still must be,
The sweetest of aeolian strains that ring!
I breathe it on the soft sea winds which bring
Their cooling treasures from the rolling deep;
They 'fresh my brow and make my sad heart sing
And ever lure my drowsy eyes from sleep,
And bid thy vesper chorist strictest vigil keep.