Read it through once

"Cradled in snow and fanned by Arctic air, Shines, gentle Barometz, thy golden hair, Rooted in earth each cloven hoof descends, And round and round her flexile neck she bends, Crops the grey coralmoss and hoary thyme, Or laps with rosy tongue the melting rime, Eyes with mute tenderness her distant dam, Or seems to bleat, a vegetable lamb."