That blessed mood in which the burthen of the mystery, in which the heavy and the weary weight of all this unintelligible world is lightened.
Two voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.
Small service is true service, while it lasts.
What we have loved Others will love And we will teach them how.
He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.