Though all—even there—be radiant Deity!
Speechless I gaze, and my whole soul is Love.
Milman.
They err, who deem love’s brightest hour in blooming youth is flown:
Its purest, tenderest, holiest power in after life is known,
When passions chastened and subdued, to riper years are given,
And earth, and earthly things, are viewed in light that breaks from Heaven.
Bernard Barton.
Music of the bough that waves,