Chapter 25 No.25

And now-methinks I gaze upon thee now,

As on a serpent in his agonies

Awestricken Indians; what time laid low

And crushing the thick fragrant reeds he lies,

When the new year warm breathèd on the earth,

Waiting to light him with his purple skies,

Calls to him by the fountain to uprise.

Already with the pangs of a new birth

S