Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
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| II. |
 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
Hear me, ye spirits, let my young voice be
Heard in your Mornthanksgivings, in your Hymns
Of Vespervoices which along the Leaves,
The dewmoist leaves pass to Eternity;
Whenever on the one eternal God
Ye call in wordless prayer, let my Voice too
Mingle with yours, not alldiscordantly;
Whether above the orient wave of Light,
Dancing, ye hymn the coming Daygod on,
Or o'er the midnightdeeps, when all is still,
Save the wave whispering his playmatewave
Spheremusicsecrets, and on widespread Wing
Sits Heavenly Meditation, brooding o'er,
Dovelike, the Universe, your voices lift
Their Undersong of neverwearied praise,
To the allbounteous Giver of all Good!
Oh in whatever Place, whatever Time,
At Morn, or dewy Eve, or Middayheat,
On land or sea or air, oh let my voice
Be heard with yours, and not unworthily,
Ethereal tho' ye be: for in such hymn,
The meanest voice is tuned by Love and Faith,
And cannot be discordant tunëd thus!
Yet once more for another boon I ask;
When in the weekday fret, and strife of this
Dark World, my spirit sinks, Oh then bring back
Upon your unseen Wings, the Dews of youth,
The Freshness of the Heart, the eversweet,
The pure imaginings of youth, which keep
The soul from blight, and are as a fresh spring
Of Life, amid the desert of this World!
Heard in your Mornthanksgivings, in your Hymns
Of Vespervoices which along the Leaves,
The dewmoist leaves pass to Eternity;
Whenever on the one eternal God
Ye call in wordless prayer, let my Voice too
Mingle with yours, not alldiscordantly;
Whether above the orient wave of Light,
Dancing, ye hymn the coming Daygod on,
Or o'er the midnightdeeps, when all is still,
Save the wave whispering his playmatewave
Spheremusicsecrets, and on widespread Wing
Sits Heavenly Meditation, brooding o'er,
Dovelike, the Universe, your voices lift
Their Undersong of neverwearied praise,
To the allbounteous Giver of all Good!
Oh in whatever Place, whatever Time,
At Morn, or dewy Eve, or Middayheat,
On land or sea or air, oh let my voice
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Ethereal tho' ye be: for in such hymn,
The meanest voice is tuned by Love and Faith,
And cannot be discordant tunëd thus!
Yet once more for another boon I ask;
When in the weekday fret, and strife of this
Dark World, my spirit sinks, Oh then bring back
Upon your unseen Wings, the Dews of youth,
The Freshness of the Heart, the eversweet,
The pure imaginings of youth, which keep
The soul from blight, and are as a fresh spring
Of Life, amid the desert of this World!
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |