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Pauline will remember the passage where the poet, with that pantheistic ecstasy which was possibly inspired by the singer he most loved, tells how he can live the life of plants, content to watch the wild bees flitting to and fro, or to lie absorbent of the ardours of the sun, or, like the night-flowering columbine, to trail up the tree-trunk and through its rustling foliage
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or, again, can live the life of the bird,
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or be a fish, breathing the morning air in the misty sun-warm water. Close following this is another memorable passage, that beginning
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Night, and one single ridge of narrow path;
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Thou art so close by me, the roughest swell Of wind in the tree-tops hides not the panting Of thy soft breasts -----
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Pippa Passes, where, on a sinister night of July, a night of spiritual storm as well as of aerial tempest, Ottima and Sebald lie amid the lightning-searcht forest, with
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Again, in the lovely Turneresque, or rather Shelleyan picture of morning, over