• I hear you, little bird,
    Shouting a-swing above the broken wall.
    Shout louder yet: no song can tell it all.
    Sing to my soul in the deep, still wood:
    ’T is wonderful beyond the wildest word:
    I ’d tell it, too, if I could.

    Oft when the white still dawn
    Lifted the skies and pushed the hills apart,
    I ’ve felt it like a glory in my...