SONNET. IN A PASS OF BAVARIA BETWEEN THE WALCHEN AND THE WALDENSEE. “His voice was as the sound of many waters.”
Reading edition
A sound of many waters—now I know To what was likened the large utterance sent By Him who ’mid the golden lampads went: Innumerable streams, above, below, Some seen, some heard alone, with headlong flow Come rushing; some with smooth and sheer descent, Some dashed to foam and whiteness, but all blent Into one mighty music. As I go, The tumult of a boundless gladness fills My bosom, and my spirit leaps and sings: Sounds and sights are there of the ancient hills, The eagle’s cry, or when the mountain flings Mists from its brow, but none of all these things Like the one voice of multitudinous rills.