Fell is like a watery bow and like a parting cloud, like a reflection in a glass, like shadows in the water, like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infant's face, like the dove's voice, like transient day, like music in the air, ah, and gentle sleep, the sleep of death, and gently hear the voice of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time. The lily of the valley breathing in the humble grass answered the lovely maid and said, I am a watery weed and I am very small and love to dwell in lowly vales. So weak the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head, yet I am visited from heaven and he that smiles on all walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads his hand saying, rejoice thou humble grass, thou new born lily flower, thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks, for thou shall be clothed in light and fed with morning manna, till summer's heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs to flourish in eternal vales. They why should fell complain, why should the mistress of the vales of har utter a sigh. She ceased and smiled in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine, which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs, revives the milked cow and tames the fire breathing steed, but fell is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun. I vanish from my pearly throne and who shall find my place, and why it scatters its bright beauty through the humid air.