noon
The envious billows sidelong swell to whelm my track ; let them ; but first I pass . Yonder , by the ever-brimming goblet 's rim , the warm waves blush like wine . The gold brow plumbs the blue . The diver sun -- slow dived from noon -- goes down ; my soul mounts up ! she wearies with her endless hill . Is , then , the crown too heavy that I wear ? this Iron Crown of Lombardy .