« AnkstesnisTęsti »
TO THE CUCKOO.
BLITHE new-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice :
Or but a wandering voice?
While I am lying on the grass,
Thy twofold shout I hear, That seems to fill the whole air's space
As loud far off as near.
Though babbling only to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.
Thrice welcome, darling of the spring!
Even yet thou art to me
A voice, a mystery;
The same whom in my schoolboy 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
Through woods and on the green ; And thou wert still a hope, a love
Still long'd for, never seen!
And I can listen to thee yet
Can lie upon the plain
That golden time again.
O blessed bird ! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
That is fit home for thee!
LONDON AT SUNRISE. EARTH has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty : This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep ! The river glideth at his own sweet will : Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still !
NATURE never did betray The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
AN EQUATORIAL CALM.
The furrow follow'd free;
Into that silent sea.
The wory deep did rot -0 Christ!
Thatever this should be!
I'm the slimy with
Alwat, slut, in rool and rout
The death fires danced at night; The water, like a witch's oils,
and blue, and white.
YE clouds! that far above me float and pause,
Whose pathless march no mortal may control !
Ye ocean-waves ! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws ! Ye woods! that listen to the night-bird's singing,
Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, Save when your own imperious branches, swinging,
Have made a solemn music of the wind !
How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
Inspired beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound ! O
ye loud waves! and O ye forests high ! And O ye clouds that far above me soar'd ! Thou rising sun ! thou blue rejoicing sky!
Yea, everything that is and will be free!
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be, With what deep worship I have still adored
The spirit of divinest Liberty.
Why sitt'st thou by that ruin'd hall,
Thou aged carle, so stern and gray ?
Or ponder how it pass'd away?