A
Thick-rushing, like an ocean vast Of bisons the far prairie shaking,
The notes crowd heavily and
As surfs, one plunging while the last Draws seaward from its foamy breaking.
Or in low murmurs they began, Rising and rising momently,
As o'er a harp
EolianA fitful breeze, until they ran Up to a sudden ecstasy.
And then, like minute-drops of rain Ringing in water silvery,
They lingering dropped and dropped again,
Till it was almost like a pain To listen when the next would be.
