O YE sweet heavens! your silence is to me More than all music. With what full delight I come down to my dwelling by the sea And look from out the lattice on the night! There the same glories burn serene and bright as in my boyhood; and if I am old Are they not also? Thus my spirit is bold To think perhaps we are coeval. Who Can tell when first my faculty began Of thought? Who knows but I was there with you When first your Maker's mind, celestial spheres, Contrived your motion ere I was a man? Else, wherefore do mine eyes thus fill with tears As I, O Pleiades! your beauty scan? |