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.
(
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1807)
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