“How strange none mark our sympathy,
And yet how like I am to thee.
My voice to thee a passage finds
In music of the tuneful winds,
While soft thy murm’ring waves reply
With a sound more faint than joy’s sigh.
“I gaze at thee with eyes of light,
With loving look, from orbs as bright,
Thou answer’st me. My beams I send,
As messengers to thee. They lend