Thy voice is on the rolling air;
I hear thee where the waters run;
Thou standest in the rising sun,
And in the setting thou art fair.
What art thou then? I cannot guess;
But tho’ I seem in star and flower
;;To feel thee some diffusive power,
I do not therefore love thee less:
My love involves the love before;
;;My love is vaster passion now;
;;Tho’ mix’d with *** and Nature thou,
I seem to love thee more and more.
Far off thou art, but ever nigh;
;;I have thee still, and I rejoice;
;;I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee tho’ I die.