Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/84

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If e'er again my spirit be allowed Converse with Nature in her chambers deep, Where lone, and mantled with the rolling cloud, She broods o'er new-born waters, as they leap In sword-like flashes down the heathery steep, From caves of mystery;—if I roam once more Where dark pines quiver to the torrent's roar, And voiceful oaks respond;—shall I not reap A more ennobling joy, a loftier power, Than e'er was shed on life's more vernal hour, From such communion?—yes! I then shall know, That not in vain have sorrow, love, and thought, Their long, still work of preparation wrought, For that more perfect sense of God revealed below.