In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 130

Thy voice is on the rolling air;

    I hear thee where the waters run;

    Thou standest in the rising sun,

And in the setting thou art fair.

What art thou then? I cannot guess;

    But tho' I seem in star and flower

    To feel thee some diffusive power,

I do not therefore love thee less:

My love involves the love before;

    My love is vaster passion now;

    Tho' mix'd with God and Nature thou,

I seem to love thee more and more.

Far off thou art, but ever nigh;

    I have thee still, and I rejoice;

    I prosper, circled with thy voice;

I shall not lose thee tho' I die.