![]() | The Sylphs of the Seasons, with other poems | ![]() |
26
In curious philosophic range,
The motion of the mind;
And how from thought to thought it flew,
Still hoping in each vision new
The faery land of bliss to view,
But ne'er that land to find.
![]() | The Sylphs of the Seasons, with other poems | ![]() |