And in Life's noisiest hour,
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of
Thee,
The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy.
You mould my Hopes, you fashion me
within;
And to the leading Love-throb in the
Heart
Thro' all my Being, thro' my pulse's
beat;
You lie in all my many Thoughts, like
Light,
Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer
Eve
On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting
Lake.
And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,
How oft! I bless the Lot
that made me love you.