clematis," "_creamy_ spray," "_dry-tongued_ laurels". But whatever he
describes is described with the same felicitous vividness. How magical
is this in the verses to Edward Lear:--


Naiads oar'd
A _glimmering shoulder_ under _gloom_
Of _cavern pillars_.


Or this:--


She lock'd her lips: she left me where I stood:
"Glory to God," she sang, and past afar,
Thridding the sombre boskage of the wood,
Toward the morning-star.

--'A Dream of Fair Women'.


But if in the world of Nature nothing escaped his sensitive and
sympathetic observation,--and indeed it might be said of him as truly as
of Shelley's 'Alastor'


Every sight
And sound from the vast earth and ambient air
Sent to his heart its choicest impulses,