Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
I. To the MavisDavid Gray (1838–1861)
S
Of gloaming, when a pensive quietness
Hushes the odorous air,—with what a power
Of impulse unsubdued, thou dost express
Thyself a spirit! While the silver dew
Holy as manna on the meadow falls,
Thy song’s impassioned clarity, trembling through
This omnipresent stillness, disenthralls
The soul to adoration. First I heard
A low, thick, lubric gurgle, soft as love,
Yet sad as memory, through the silence poured
Like starlight. But the mood intenser grows,
Precipitate rapture quickens, move on move
Lucidly linked together, till the close.