Samuel Taylor woke, and saw
A world that dawned in misty shrouds.
He rubbed his sleep-transformèd eyes
And watched Earth’s incense slowly rise
In heavy, billowing clouds.

Samuel Taylor rose, and felt
The stony earth beneath him turn.
He strode about, and felt his limbs
Receive the breeze’s drifting hymns:
His heart began to burn.

Samuel Taylor laughed, and heard
His voice set all the world a-ringing.
The echoes pealed from stones and mountains,
Storm-tossed seas and sun-flecked fountains:
An elemental singing.

Samuel Taylor slept, and dreamed
A world too holy for our waking.
His mind flowed backward, day through day,
And so received, with Adam’s clay,
The breath of our first making.