Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the Heavens on high
With tumult, as they thunder by,
I hardly have no time for idle cares
Thro’ gazing on th’ unquiet sky.
And, when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings —
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away — forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings!