[See full text.]
IN my sleep I was fain of their fellowship, fain
Of the live-oak, the marsh and the main.
The little green leaves would not let me alone in my sleep.
Upbreathed from the marshes, a message of range and of sweep...

Young palmer sun, that to the shining sands
  Pourest thy pilgrim’s tale, discoursing still
Thy silver passages of sacred lands,
  With news of Sepulchre and Dolorous Hill,

Canst thou be he that, Yester-Sunset warm,
  Purple with Paynim rage and wrack-...