Classic Poem

WHEREIN HIS HIGHEST HAPPINESS CONSISTS IN SEEING AND HEARING HER

Such noble sustenance my fancy feeds
I envy not Jove's godlike meat and wine:
I gaze on her — and feel floods more divine
Surge in lethean flame that nothing heeds;
I hear her voice — that silver music bends
My trammeled soul of sighs; a double vine
Grows from one seed: I seek not to define
My doom, but doubly follow where Love leads.
That liquid voice my spirit drinks, those tones
Whose talking harmonies, so light, so dear,
They only feel who hear deep in their bones:
Thus, in a single hand's breadth, do inhere
All charms we know: the strength that moveth stones
And nature, genius, art and God appear!