Sing on, wide winds, your anthems vast!
The ear is richer than the eye:
Upon the eye no shape can cast
Such impress of Infinity.
And thou, my soul, thy wings of might
Put forth:—thou too, one day shalt soar,
And, onward borne in heavenward flight,
The starry universe explore;
Breasting that breeze which waves the bowers
Of Heaven's bright forest never mute,
Whereof perchance this earth of ours
Is but the feeblest forest-fruit.
"The Spirit bloweth where He wills"—
Effluence of that Life Divine
Which wakes the Universe, and stills,
In Thy strong refluence make us Thine!