Sweet after showers, ambrosial air
That rollest from the gorgeous gloom
Of evening fan my brows and blow
The fever from my cheek, and sigh
The full new life that feeds thy breath
Throughout my frame, till Doubt and Death
Ill brethren, let the fancy fly
From belt to belt of crimson seas
On leagues of odour streaming far
To where in yonder orient star
A hundred spirits whisper "Peace."