Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all We can desire, O Love! and happy souls, Ere from thy vine the leaves of autumn fall,
Catch thee, and feed from their o'erflowing bowls Thousands who thirst for thine ambrosial dew;- Thou art the radiance which where ocean rolls
Investeth it; and when the heavens are blue Thou fillest them; and when the earth is fair The shadow of thy moving wings imbue
Its deserts and its mountains, till they wear Beauty like some light robe;-thou ever soarest Among the towers of men, and as soft air
In spring, which moves the unawakened forest, Clothing with leaves its branches bare and bleak, Thou floatest among men; and aye implorest
That which from thee they should implore:-the weak Alone kneel to thee, offering up the hearts The strong have broken-yet where shall any seek
A garment whom thou clothest not? the darts Of the keen winter storm, barbed with frost, Which, from the everlasting snow that parts
The Alps from Heaven, pierce some traveller lost In the wide waved interminable snow Ungarmented,...