The Kirk Of Ulpha To The Pilgrim'S Eye Is Welcome As A Star, That Doth Present Its Shining Forehead Through The Peaceful Rent Of A Black Cloud Diffused O'Er Half The Sky: Or As A Fruitful Palm-Tree Towering High O'Er The Parched Waste Beside An Arab'S Tent; Or The Indian Tree Whose Branches, Downward Bent, Take Root Again, A Boundless Canopy. How Sweet Were Leisure! Could It Yield No More Than 'Mid That Wave-Washed Churchyard To Recline, From Pastoral Graves Extracting Thoughts Divine; Or There To Pace, And Mark The Summits Hoar Of Distant Moonlit Mountains Faintly Shine, Soothed By The Unseen River'S Gentle Roar.