Classic Poem

O what sublime conceptions fill the soul,
When o'er the dawn-clad Tatra the rapt eye
Wanders; — all thought dissolv'd in sympathy,
And words unutter'd into silence roll!
How the heart heaves when thunder-storms eclipse
The sun, and century-rooted oaks uptear:
When Etna opens wide his fiery lips —
Turns pale the star-hair'd moon and shakes the sphere!
Yet this, and more than this, my soul can bear —
But not thine innocent look. — thy gentle smile —
What magic; might, and majesty, are there:
A trembling agitation shakes me, while
Confus'd amidst thy varied charms I see
The powers of earth and heaven all blent in thee.