The eagle soars in the summit of Heaven
But my heart lingers in the bossom of thy love
With a perpetual configuration of melodious cacophonies
Rhythms that conquer the Julius in me
...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.