SURPRISED by joy--impatient as the Wind by William Wordsworth

          I turned to share the transport--Oh! with whom
          But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
          That spot which no vicissitude can find?
          Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--
          But how could I forget thee? Through what power, 
          Even for the least division of an hour,
          Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
          To my most grievous loss?--That thought's return
          Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,                   
          Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
          Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
          That neither present time, nor years unborn
          Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.