...Come when the rains
Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice,
While the slant sun of February pours
Into the bowers a flood of light.
. . .
...You might deem the spot
The spacious cavern of some virgin mine,
Deep in the womb of earth -- where the gems grow,
And diamonds put forth radiant rods and bud
With amethyst and topaz -- and the place
Lit up, most royally, with the pure beam
The dwells in them . . .
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