From “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,” Canto III.
  SKY, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye
  With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul
  To make these felt and feeling, well may be
  Things that have made me watchful; the far roll
  Of your departing voices is the knoll
  Of what in me is sleepless,—if I rest.
  But where of...