Tears, idle tears I know not what they mean, Sears from the depth of some divine despair hise in the heart & gather to the eyes
on the happy Autumn fields,
THE World is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers, For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathéd horn. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
A WIND came up out of the sea, And said, "O mists, make room for me!"
It hailed the ships, and cried, "Sail on, Ye mariners, the night is gone." And hurried landward far away, Crying, "Awake! it is the day." It said unto the forest, "Shout! Hang all your leafy banners out!"
It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, And said, "O bird, awake and sing!" And o'er the farms, "O chanticleer, Your clarion blow; the day is near!" It whispered to the fields of corn, "Bow down, and hail the coming morn!" It shouted through the belfry-tower, "Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour." It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, And said, "Not yet! in quiet lie."
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
INVOCATION TO LIGHT.
HAIL, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born! Or of the Eternal coeternal beam May I express thee unblamed? since God is light, And never but in unapproachéd light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell? before the sun, Before the heavens, thou wert, and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite. Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detained In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight Through utter and through middle darkness borne, With other notes than to the Orphean lyre, I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend, Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe, And feel thy sovereign vital lamp; but thou Revisitest not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, Or dim suffusion veiled. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget Those other two equalled with me in fate, So were I equalled with them in renown, Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides, And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old : Then feed on thoughts that voluntary move Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud, instead, and ever-during dark, Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank
Of nature's works, to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. So much the rather thou, celestial Light, Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight.
The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark!
Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings;
Through rustling corn the hare astonished springs;
Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings ; Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower, And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tower. JAMES BEATTIE.
WITH silent awe I hail the sacred morn, That slowly wakes while all the fields are still ! A soothing calm on every breeze is borne; A graver murmur gurgles from the rill; And echo answers softer from the hill; And softer sings the linnet from the thorn : The skylark warbles in a tone less shrill. Hail, light serene! hail, sacred Sabbath morn! The rooks float silent by in airy drove ; The sun a placid yellow lustre throws ; The gales that lately sighed along the grove Have hushed their downy wings in dead repose; The hovering rack of clouds forgets to move, So smiled the day when the first morn arose !
All voices sad and clear, Banished to silence drear,
The willing thrall of trances sweet I lie.
Some melancholy gale Breathes its mysterious tale, Till the rose's lips grow pale With her sighs;
And o'er my thoughts are cast Tints of the vanished past, Glories that faded fast,
Renewed to splendor in my dreaming eyes.
As poised on vibrant wings, Where its sweet treasure swings, The honey-lover clings
To the red flowers,
So, lost in vivid light,
So, rapt from day and night,
I linger in delight,
Enraptured o'er the vision-freighted hours.
BENEATH a shivering canopy reclined, Of aspen-leaves that wave without a wind, I love to lie, when lulling breezes stir The spiry cones that tremble on the fir; Or wander mid the dark-green fields of broom, When peers in scattered tufts the yellow bloom; Or trace the path with tangling furze o'errun, When bursting seed-bells crackle in the sun, And pittering grasshoppers, confus'dly shrill, Pipe giddily along the glowing hill : Sweet grasshopper, who lov'st at noon to lie Serenely in the green-ribbed clover's eye, To sun thy filmy wings and emerald vest, Unseen thy form, and undisturbed thy rest, Oft have I listening mused the sultry day, And wondered what thy chirping song might say, When naught was heard along the blossomed lea, To join thy music, save the listless bee.
ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY.
O UNSEEN Spirit! now a calm divine Comes forth from thee, rejoicing earth and air! Trees, hills, and houses, all distinctly shine, And thy great ocean slumbers everywhere. The mountain ridge against the purple sky Stands clear and strong, with darkened rocks and dells,
And cloudless brightness opens wide and high A home aerial, where thy presence dwells.
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