Is mingled into harmony profound;
Where the leaves thrill with spirit, while the wind
Fills with a viewless being, unconfined,
The trembling reeds and fountains. Our own dell,
With its green dimness and Æolian breath,
Shall suit th’ unveiling of dark records well—
Hear me in tenderness and silent faith!
Thou knew’st me not in life’s fresh vernal morn—
I would thou hadst!—for then my heart on thine
Had pour’d a worthier love; now, all o’erworn