The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains, Are not these, O Soul, the Vision of Him who reigns? - Alfred Tennyson

There rolls the deep where grew the tree.
O earth, what changes hast thou seen!
There where the long street roars, hath been
The stillness of the central sea.

The hills are shadows, and they flow
From form to form, and nothing stands;
They melt like mist, the solid lands,
Like clouds they shape themselves and go.

But in my spirit will I dwell,
And dream my dream, and hold it true;
For tho' my lips may breathe adieu,
I cannot think the thing farewell.

And when she gained her castle, upsprang the bridge,
Down rang the grate of iron through the groove,
And he was left alone in open field.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth;
Forgive them where they fall in truth,
And in thy wisdom make me wise.