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 though i seem in star and flower
to feel thee in some diffusive power,
i do not therefore love thee less.
My love involves the love before;
My love is vaster passion now;
Though mixed with God and Nature
i seem to love thee more and more.
Far off thou art, but never nigh;
I have thee still, and i rejoice;
I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee though i die.
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson