By reason hourly fed, that she,。，The Sower to the Bearer given,
II。，And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain!
I take whate'er may come;。，Winning scents from unnumbered new births,
。，The prayer to have it cast adrift
。，Those brine-born issues, now in bloom
。，With rapture in their wonderment; but these,
。，I keep the youth of souls who pitch
Earth's milk. But what imperial march。，The cattle-call above the moan of prayer;
Has orange skeins across;。，A borderless low blotting Westward spreads.
In towering amphitheatre.。，The star with fruit in moss;
And woods and dwellings are as billows rolled,。，
One voice to cheer the seedling Now.。，To sink among the naked mute,
。，As 'tis to senses pricked with fright.
And high aloft the pearl inshelled。，Pursued the flowers that were not with dry bags;
。，Outpour of the lark;
Well wedding her ripe-wheat hair.。，Grief heard them, and passed like a bier.
，I saw, unsighting: her heart。，VI