Page:Poems Whitney.djvu/51

And here when the heavens are azure,
 And no dunce that you know is near
To hint at a weather-breeder,
 In the magical atmosphere;

When swallows on cleaving pinions,
 Disdaining the earth and you,
Follow the hunt far up
 In the calm, embosoming blue;

Or when in the west mount Prospect
 Indues its purple; and ah!
When my planet looks down on the mill-stream
 My porphyro-genita;

I look with a half enchantment
 Over regions that wait renown,
The triple crest of Waltham,
 And vales of Watertown;