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Strona 448 - TO A WATERFOWL Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Strona 446 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Strona 447 - The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Strona 449 - Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart Deeply has sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.
Strona 446 - Go forth, under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings, while from all around — Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — Comes a still voice: — Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, And, lost each human trace...
Strona 213 - So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep From you for ever; I did hear you talk, Far above singing. After you were gone, I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched What stirred it so: alas, I found it love!
Strona 450 - Of ocean, and the harvests of its shores. Thy spirit is around. Quickening the restless mass that sweeps along ; And this eternal sound — Voices and footfalls of the numberless throng — Like the resounding sea, Or like the rainy tempest, speaks of thee. And when the hours of rest Come, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine, Hushing its billowy breast — The quiet of that moment too is thine ; It breathes of Him who keeps The vast and helpless city while it sleeps.
Strona 449 - NOT in the solitude Alone may man commune with Heaven, or see, Only in savage wood And sunny vale, the present Deity ; Or only hear his voice Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice. Even here do I behold Thy steps, Almighty ! — here, amidst the crowd Through the great city rolled, With everlasting murmur deep and loud — Choking the ways that wind 'Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind.
Strona 448 - At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend Soon o'er thy sheltered nest.