Of elfin chivalry, that, helmed with gold,
Invisible march, making a twinkling sound.--
What brought thee here?--this wind, that steals the old
Gray legends from the forests and around
Whispers them now? Or, in those purple weeds
The hermit brook so busy with his beads?--
Lulling the silence with his prayers all day,
Droning soft _Aves_ on his rosary
Of bubbles.--Or, that butterfly didst mark
On yon hag-taper, towering by the way,
A witch's yellow torch?--Or didst, like me,
Watch, drifting by, these curled, brown bits of bark?