Is love less kindred with the skies,
Or less their Maker's will?
The strains, without a human cause,
Flow on, unheeding lies and laws—
Will hearts for words be still?
"What cliffs oppose, what oceans roll,
What frowns o'ershade the weeping soul,
Alas! were long to tell.
But something is there more than these,
Than frowns and coldness, rocks and seas: