Puslapio vaizdai

Time was, blest Power! when youths and maids

At peep of dawn would rise,

And wander forth in forest glades

Thy birth to solemnize.

Though mute the song- to grace the rite

Untouched the hawthorn bough,

Thy Spirit triumphs o'er the slight;
Man changes, but not Thou!

Thy feathered Lieges bill and wings
In Love's disport employ;

Warmed by thy influence, creeping things

Awake to silent joy:

Queen art thou still for each gay plant
Where the slim wild deer roves,
And served in depths where fishes haunt
Their own mysterious groves.

Cloud-piercing peak, and trackless heath,
Instinctive homage pay;

Nor wants the dim-lit cave a wreath
To honor thee, sweet May!

Where cities fanned by thy brisk airs
Behold a smokeless sky,

Their puniest flower-pot nursling dares
To open a bright eye.

And if, on this thy natal morn,
The pole, from which thy name
Hath not departed, stands forlorn
Of song, and dance, and game;
Still from the village-green a vow
Aspires to thee addrest,
Wherever peace is on the brow,
Or love within the breast.

Yes! where Love nestles thou canst teach The soul to love the more;

Hearts also shall thy lessons reach

That never loved before.

Stript is the haughty one of pride,
The bashful freed from fear,
While rising, like the ocean-tide,
In flows the joyous year.

Hush, feeble lyre! weak words refuse
The service to prolong!

To yon exulting thrush the Muse
Intrusts the imperfect song;
His voice shall chant, in accents clear,
Throughout the live-long day,

Till the first silver star appear,
The sovereignty of May.


HAST thou seen, with flash incessant,

Bubbles gliding under ice,

Bodied forth and evanescent,

No one knows by what device?

Such are thoughts! —a wind-swept meadow

Mimicking a troubled sea,

Such is life; and death a shadow

From the rock eternity!


ALAS! what boots the long laborious quest
Of moral prudence, sought through good and ill;
Or pains abstruse to elevate the will,
And lead us on to that transcendent rest
Where every passion shall the sway attest
Of Reason, seated on her sovereign hill;
What is it but a vain and curious skill,
If sapient Germany must lie deprest,
Beneath the brutal sword? Her haughty Schools
Shall blush; and may not we with sorrow say,
A few strong instincts and a few plain rules,
Among the herdsmen of the Alps, have wrought
More for mankind at this unhappy day

Than all the pride of intellect and thought?


My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.


WITH Ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh, Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed; Some lying fast at anchor in the road,

Some veering up and down, one knew not why.
A gcodly Vessel did I then espy

Come like a giant from a haven broad;
And lustily along the bay she strode,
Her tackling rich, and of apparel high.
This Ship was nought to me, nor I to her,
Yet I pursued her with a Lovers look;
This Ship to all the rest did I prefer:

When will she turn, and whither? She will brook
No tarrying; where She comes the winds must stir;
On went She, and due north her journey took.



THE Cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter,

The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest

Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,

Their heads never raising;

There are forty feeding like one!

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