This has a wonderful lightness and radiance. And here is a
passage of careful description from 'Evening: Ponte a Mare,
Pisa':

"The sun is set; the swallows are asleep;
The bats are flitting fast in the gray air;
The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep,
And evening's breath, wandering here and there
Over the quivering surface of the stream,
Walkes not one ripple from its summer dream.

There is no dew on the dry grass to-night,
Nor damp within the shadow of the trees;
The wind is intermitting, dry and light;
And in the inconstant motion of the breeze
The dust and straws are driven up and down,
And whirled about the pavement of the town."

Evidently he was a good observer, in the sense that he saw
details clearly--unlike Byron, who had for nature but a vague
and a preoccupied eye--and evidently, too, his observation is
steeped in strong feeling, and is expressed in most melodious
language. Yet we get the impression that he neither saw nor
felt anything beyond exactly what he has expressed; there is no
suggestion, as there should be in great poetry, of something
beyond all expression. And, curiously enough, this seems to be
true even of those fanciful poems so especially characteristic
of him, such as 'The Cloud' and 'Arethusa', where he has dashed
together on his palette the most startling colours in nature,