« PoprzedniaDalej »
O spare ! and let it still outspread
Its beauties to the passing eye, And look up from its lowly bed
Upon the sky.
O spare my flower ! T'hou know'st not what
Thy undiscerning hand would tear :
A thousand charms thou notest not
Lie treasured there.
Not Solomon, in all his state,
Was clad like nature's simplest child ; Nor could the world combined create
One floweret wild.
Spare then this humble monument
Of an Almighty's power and skill ; And let it at His shrine present
Its homage still.
He made it who makes nought in vain :
He watches it who watches thee ;
And he can best its date ordain
Who bade it be.
O spare my flower—for it is frail ;
A timid, weak, imploring thing-
Its moral Aling.
Catch the suggestion, and apply :“Go, live like me,” it cries; “ like me
Soon, soon to die.”
I would not always sail
Upon a sunny sea : The mountain wave, the sounding gale,
Have deeper joys for me.
Let others love to creep
Along the flowery dell :
Among the storms, to dwell.
The rock, the mist, the foam,
The wonderful, the wild-
And claim me for their child.
The whirlwind's rushing wing,
The stern volcano's voice, To me an awful rapture bring :
I tremble, and rejoice.
I love thy solemn roar,
Thou deep, eternal sea, Sounding along from shore to shore
The boundless and the free.
I love the flood's hoarse
song, The thunder's lordly mirth, The midnight wind, that walks along
The hushed and trembling earth ;
The mountain, lone and high,
The dark and silent wood, The desert stretched from sky to sky
In awful solitude.
A presence and a power
In scenes like these I see : The stillness of a midnight hour
Has eloquence for me.
Then, bursting earth's control,
My thoughts are all at flood : I feel the stirrings in my soul
Of an immortal mood.
My energies expand ;
My spirit looks abroad; And, midst the terrible and grand,
Feels nearer to her God.
Let others tamely weigh
The danger and the pain :
To share the joy and gain.