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Umbrageous cedars, murmuring symphonies,
Stoop'd in late twilight o'er dark Denmark's Prince:
He sat, his eyes companioned with dream —
Lustrous large eyes that held the world in view
As some entranced child's a puppet show.
Darkness gave birth to the all-trembling stars.
And a far roar of long-drawn cataracts,
Flooding immeasurable night with sound.
He sat so still, his very thoughts took wing.
And lightest Ariels the stillness haunted
With midge-like measures ; but, at last, even they
Sank 'neath the influences of his night
The sweet dust shed faint perfume in the gloom;
Through all wild space the stars' bright arrows fell
On the lone Prince — the troubled son of man —
On Time's dark waters in unearthly trouble:
Then, as the roar increased, and one fair tower
Of cloud took sky and stars with majesty,
He rose, his face a parchment of old age,
Sorrow hath scribbled o'er, and o'er, and o'er.




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