Underneath Their Eider-Robe Russet Swede And Golden Globe, Feathered Carrot, Burrowing Deep, Steadfast Wait In Charmed Sleep; Treasure-Houses Wherein Lie, Locked By Angels' Alchemy, Milk And Hair, And Blood, And Bone, Children Of The Barren Stone; Children Of The Flaming Air, With His Blue Eye Keen And Bare, Spirit-Peopled Smiling Down On Frozen Field And Toiling Town - Toiling Town That Will Not Heed God His Voice For Rage And Greed; Frozen Fields That Surpliced Lie, Gazing Patient At The Sky; Like Some Marble Carven Nun, With Folded Hands When Work Is Done, Who Mute Upon Her Tomb Doth Pray, Till The Resurrection Day. Eversley, 1845.