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, the mountain when it flings 
Mists from its brow, but none of all these things 
Like the one voice of multitudinous rills.