From 'Rammon.' br br Through storms you reach them and from br storms are free. br Afar descried, the foremost drear in hue, br But, nearer, green; and, on the marge, the sea br Makes thunder low and mist of rainbowed br dew. br br But, inland, where the sleep that folds the hills br A dreamier sleep, the trance of God, instills-- br On uplands hazed, in wandering airs br aswoon, br Slow-swaying palms salute love's cypress tree br Adown in vale where pebbly runlets croon br A song to lull all sorrow and all glee. br br Sweet-fern and moss in many a glade are here. br Where, strewn in flocks, what cheek-flushed br myriads lie br Dimpling in dream--unconscious slumberers br mere, br While billows endless round the beaches die.