From: Alec Justice
Subject: the peace with thy grim castanet! on the bared rocks around me lie,–
the peace with thy grim castanet!
all the time sprung from corruption. & the air was full of them, & seemd
[For what it’s worth, the first line seems to be from a poem about rattlesnakes by an American named Bret Harte. But I still thing there’s something wonderfully lyrical about the whole construction.]