I seem to hear her, hearing airs and sprays,
And leaves, and plaintive bird notes, and the brook
That steals and murmurs through the sedges green.
Such pleasure in lone silence and the maze
Of eerie shadowy woods I never took,
Though too much tow'r'd my sun they intervene.
(Sonnet 143.)
and like Goethe's:
I think of thee when the bright sunlight shimmers
Across the sea;