How often we forget all time, when
Admiring Nature's universal throne;
Her woods - her winds - her mountains - the
Reply of Hers to Our intelligence!
I.
In youth I have known one with whom the Earth In secret communing held - as he with it,
In daylight, and in beauty, from his birth: Whose fervid, flickering torch of life was
From the sun and stars, whence he had drawn forth A passionate light - such for his spirit was fit -And yet that spirit knew - not in the
Of its own fervour - what had o'er it power. II.
Perhaps it may be that my mind is wrought To a fever by the moonbeam that hangs o'er,
But I will half believe that wild light fraught With more of sovereignty than ancient
Hath ever told - or is it of a thought The unembodied essence, and no
That with a quickening spell doth o'er us
As dew of the night time, o'er the summer grass?
II.
Doth o'er us pass, when as th' expanding eye To the loved object - so the tear to the
Will start, which lately slept in apathy? And yet it need not be - (that object)
From us in life - but common - which doth lie Each hour before us - but then only
With a strange sound, as of a harpstring brokenT' awake us - 'Tis a symbol and a token - IV.
Of what in other worlds shall be - and given In beauty by our God, to those
Who otherwise would fall from life and Heaven Drawn by their heart's passion, and that tone,
That high tone of the spirit which hath striven Though not with Faith - with godliness - whose
With desperate energy 't hath beaten down;
Wearing its own deep feeling as a crown.
