Hear we thunder in heaven, a horn among men,
On the hill sings a maiden now and then,—
Sound what may,
Answer through space thou mak'st again
With small delay.
Aware of the thunder's rattling roll,
Of the winds and the waves when without control,
Of the cries where the village shepherds stroll,
Reply thou giv'st;
Yet thou thyself, without one answering soul,