Canto CXXVIII

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 God 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.