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 flowerTo 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.