Far above the hollow <br />Tempest, and its moan, <br />Singeth bright Apollo <br />In his golden zone,— <br />Cloud doth never shade him, <br />Nor a storm invade him, <br />On his joyous throne. <br />So when I behold me <br />In an orb as bright, <br />How thy soul doth fold me <br />In its throne of light! <br />Sorrow never paineth, <br />Nor a care attaineth <br />To that blessed height.<br /><br />Thomas Hood<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/verses-written-in-an-album/
