And all thy motions, too, how free,
And yet how fraught with sympathy!
So pale thy tint, so meek thy gleam,
Shed on thy kindly father-stream!
Still, as he swayeth to and fro,
How true in all thy goings,
As if thy very soul did know
The secrets of his flowings.
3. And then that heart of living gold,
Which thou dost modestly infold,