Not as on Derwentwater, when the dawn
        Comes dancing o’er Helvellyn, comes the light
        To Lago Maggiore: here the night
With jealous, lingering footsteps is withdrawn,
And up the hills, and down the mountain-lawn,
        The blue-eyed morn with silver sandals bright
        Moves toward the sleeping waters.  First to
The still grey mirror glimmers into fawn;

Next, while the church-bell moans across the mere
    From some far convent, lilac steals from Heaven,
        And when the swallow stirs, a roseate cloud
        Casts down its purple; blackbirds sing out loud,
    Green light and gold from dewy slopes are given,
Then the blue deepens, and the day is here.

(Sonnets in Switzerland and Italy, p. 58)