Is flashing round me, and a tone
Arises from its measured motion,
How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.
‘Yet now despair itself is mild,
Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air