But still the heart doth need a language!”
Coleridge’s “Wallenstein.”
Ye have been holy, O founts and floods!
Ye of the ancient and solemn woods,
Ye that are born of the valleys deep,
With the water-flowers on your breast asleep,
And ye that gush from the sounding caves—
Hallow’d have been your waves.
Hallow’d by man, in his dreams of old,
Unto beings not of this mortal mould—