Up The Nepigon.
How beautiful, how beautiful,
Beneath the morning sky,
In bridal veil of snowy mist,
These dreamy headlands lie!
How beautiful, in soft repose,
Upon the water's breast,
Steeped in the sunlight's golden calm,
These fairy islets rest!
A Sabbath hush enfolds the hills,
And broods upon the deep
Whose music every hollow fills,
And climbs each rocky steep,
Now low and soft like love's own sigh,
Now faint and far away,
Now plaining to the answering pines,
With melancholy lay.
Like white-winged birds, through azure depths,
Above the restless tide,
With snowy plume and golden crest,
The fleecy cloudlets glide;
Their dancing shadows fleck the deep,
Or flit above the green
Of emerald is...