Inspiration! oh whence comes it? Whence its power? ah! who can tell?
As it sweeps the spirits’ harp-strings, with its wondrous magic spell!
Wafted to us in the breezes, as they fan our cheek and brow;
Speaking to us in the tempest, ’gainst whose might the forests bow!
Whispering to us from the dew-drops, and the gentle summer showers,
Rushing o’er us, with a mighty overwhelming power,
As with awe and adoration, stand we silent by the sea,
While the roaring, surging billows, tell us of Infinity.
Coming to us from the sand upon the shore,
From the proud majestic mountain reaching upward evermore;