Whose warm suffusions glow’d and pass’d,
Each richer, lovelier, than the last.
How oft, while gazing on the deep,
That seem’d a heaven of peace to sleep,
As if its wave, so still, so fair,
More frowning mien might never wear,
The twilight calm of mental rest
Would steal in silence o’er thy breast,
And wake that dear and balmy sigh
That softly breathes the spirit’s harmony!