Page:Poems Whitney.djvu/183

 Or pausest thou, shuddering with some fear,
Or burthened with a new delight,
 Dear stream, thy voice is not so clear?

Perhaps through wood and rocky reach,
 A spirit of the wave, thy bride,
 Runs softly wimpling to thy side,
And thou, confused in thy speech,
 For painful joy dost talk so wide.

When love with love makes God's clear day,
 A light for every coming year,
 Each thing to hope and fancy dear,
Comes double laden, or, best say,
 Is half a joy and half a fear.

So feeble are we! and the fair,
 Sweet Presence that within us sings,
 The hour, that like concentred springs,
Comes freighted with its heavenly air,
 Cannot forego its heavenly wings.