The weary Sun betook himself to rest. Then issued Vesper from the fulgent West, Outshining like a visible God The glorious path in which he trod. And now, ascending, after one dark hour, And one night's diminution of her power, Behold the mighty Moon! this way She looks as if at them—but they Regard not her :-oh better wrong and strife Better vain deeds or evil than such life! The silent Heavens have goings on; The stars have tasks—but these have none. 11. TO THE CUCKOO. O blithe New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice: O Cuckoo shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass, I hear thy restless shout: From hill to hill it seems to pass, To me, no Babbler with a tale Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou tellest, Cuckoo! in the vale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, Darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No Bird; but an invisible Thing, A voice, a mystery. The same whom in my School-boy days I listen'd to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways; In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again. O blessed Bird! the earth we pace Again appears to be An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for Thee! 12. TO A BUTTERFLY. I've watch'd you now a full half hour, Self-pois'd upon that yellow flower; And, little Butterfly! indeed I know not if you sleep, or feed. How motionless! not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again! |