noon
beautiful ! the boughs are at rest ! the green waves of the forest have caught the Zephyr and drowned him ! Not a breath stirs the leaves -- and I view the Dreams sleeping with folded wings upon the motionless elm ; and I look beyond , and I see a blue stream sparkle in the silent noon ; a fountain -- a fountain springing aloft ! Ah ! my fount , thou wilt not put out rays of my Grecian sun , though thou triest ever so hard with thy nimble and silver arms . And now , what form steals yonder through the boughs ?