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Of lively portraiture displayed, Softly on my eyelids laid;And as I wake, sweet music breathe Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by some spirit to mortals good,
Or the unseen Genius of the wood.
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloisters pale,
And love the high embowed roof,
With antic pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim, religious light:
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voiced choir below,
In service high, and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies,
And bring all heaven before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell
Of every star that heaven doth show,
And every herb that sips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain. These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
366 WHY THUS LONGING?
WHY THUS LONGING ? — Miss Winston.
Why thus longing, thus for ever sighing,
While the beautiful, all round thee lying,
Wouldst thou listen to its gentle teaching,
Leaf, and flower, and laden bee are preaching,
Poor indeed thou must be, if around thee
If no silken cord of love hath bound thee
If no dear eyes thy fond love can brighten, —
If no brother's sorrow thou canst lighten
Not by deeds that win the crowd's applauses,
Canst thou win and wear the immortal crown.
Daily struggling, though unloved and lonely,
Thou wilt find, by hearty striving only,
Dost thou revel in the rosy morning,
And his smile, the mountain-tops adorning,
Other hands may grasp the field and forest,
But with fervent love if thou adorest,
Thou art wealthier, — all the world is thine!
Yet if through earth's wide domains thou rovest,
Not those fair fields, but thyself, thou lovest,
Nature wears the colors of the spirit,
All the glow, the grace, she doth inherit,
VANITY. — Herbert.
The fleet astronomer can bore And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing mind. He views their stations; walks from door to door;
Surveys, as if he had designed
And knoweth, long before,
The nimble diver with his side
On purpose from the venturous wretch,
That he might save his life,— and also her's
Who, with excessive pride,
The subtle chymic can divest
There he imparts to them his mind,
They appear trim and dressed To ordinary suitors at the door.
What hath not man sought out and found, But his dear God? who yet his glorious law Embosoms in us, mellowing the ground
With showers and frosts, with love and awe;
Poor man! thou searchest round
THE CLOUD. — Leigh Hunt.
As I stood thus, a neighbouring wood of elms
Shaking their choral locks; and on the place
There fell a shade, as on an awe-struck face;
And overhead, like a portentous rim
Pulled over the wide world, to make all dim,
A grave, gigantic cloud came hugely uplifting him.
It passed with its slow shadow; and I saw
THE DRYADS. — Leigh Hunt.
These are the tawny Dryads, who love nooks