Opal, edg'd with amethyst, Or the sunset's purpl'd mist, Or the splendour that there lies In a maiden's azure eyes, Kindling in a sweet surprise: Flower-tints, shell-tints, tender-dy'd, Save to curious unespied: Lo, one BUBBLE follows t'other, Differing still from its frail brother, Striking still from change to change With a quick and vivid range. There in the contiguous wave Torches palely-glist'ning lave; Here what delicate love-lights shine! Through them near flames bick'ring shine. Matching flushing of the rose, As the ruddy channel flows: Milky rivers in white tide Lucent, hush, still onwards glide: Purple rivers in high flood-- Red as is man's awful blood: Corn-fields smiling goldenly Meet the blue laugh of the sea: Mist-clouds sailing on their way Darken the changeful cheeks of Day: And beneath vine-clusters red Lilies are transfigurèd: Here you mark as 'twere the snows Folding o'er the neighb'ring rose; Snow into blown roses flushing, Roses wearied of their blushing, As the shifting tints embrace, And their course you scarce can trace; Now retiring, now advancing, Now in wanton mazes dancing; Now a flow'ry red appears, Now a purpl'd green careers. All the signs in heaven that burn Where the gliding wheel doth turn, Here in radiant courses go, As though 'twere a heaven below: The sky's mazes involute Circling onward with deft foot, Sphere on heavenly sphere attending, Coming, going, inter-blending: And the gold-fleec'd flocks of air Wand'ring inviolate and fair; Flocks that drink in chaste delight Dewy pastures of the Night, Leaving no trace of foot or bite. Whate'er of change above you note, As these clouds o'er heaven float, Lo, repeated here we see In a sportive mimicry. Here the tiny tender world Within its own brightness furl'd Wavers, as in fairy robe 'Twere a belted linèd globe. Lights as of the breaking Day Tremble with iridescent play, But now swiftly upward going, Evanescent colours showing, In some nook their beams concealing, Nor their wantonness revealing. O, what store of wonders here In this short-liv'd slender SPHERE! For all wonders I have told Are within its GLOBE enroll'd: Not such globe as skillèd he Fashion'd of old in Sicily: Brighter e'en than crystals are, And than crystal frailer far. 'I am Spirit of the Wind, For a flitting breath design'd; I am Blossom born of air; I'm of Ocean, guiding Star; I'm a golden sport of Nature, Frolic stamp'd on ev'ry feature: I'm a myth, an idle theme, The brief substance of a dream: Grace and grief of trifles, I Charm--a well-skill'd vanity; Begotten of the treacherous breeze, Parent of absurdities: Yet, a drop or mote, at best,