Songs of A Wayfarer By William Davies |
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| CVIII. | CVIII. THE CHILD OF NATURE. |
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 | Songs of A Wayfarer |  |
107
CVIII. THE CHILD OF NATURE.
Dear child of Nature, in thy glance
The light of summer days doth dance,
To all fair things akin:
No wind that blows across the plain
But robs thy heart of mortal pain,
And puts a joy therein.
The light of summer days doth dance,
To all fair things akin:
No wind that blows across the plain
But robs thy heart of mortal pain,
And puts a joy therein.
Men travel far and wide to learn
New systems, striving to discern
Fresh lights to make them wise;
They scale the lofty hills, they dive
The sea, a little truth to hive:
Thy wisdom nearer lies.
New systems, striving to discern
Fresh lights to make them wise;
They scale the lofty hills, they dive
The sea, a little truth to hive:
Thy wisdom nearer lies.
The tenderness of dawn, the flowers
That blow about the thickset bowers,
The brooks that wander free,
The clouds that sail the liquid sky,
Day's calm decline, night's galaxy,
Are gospels unto thee.
That blow about the thickset bowers,
The brooks that wander free,
The clouds that sail the liquid sky,
Day's calm decline, night's galaxy,
Are gospels unto thee.
For thee fair Flora decks the glade;
For thee the butterfly is glad;
For thee all sweet sounds meet;
And, not to lose the general share
Of joy, the sunshine gilds thy hair,
And gambols at thy feet.
For thee the butterfly is glad;
For thee all sweet sounds meet;
And, not to lose the general share
Of joy, the sunshine gilds thy hair,
And gambols at thy feet.
108
Thy beauty owns no touch of art;
For that is but the smallest part
Which shines upon thy face:
And yet thy slightest smile doth twine
The inmost soul; such power is thine,
And such a maiden grace.
For that is but the smallest part
Which shines upon thy face:
And yet thy slightest smile doth twine
The inmost soul; such power is thine,
And such a maiden grace.
Within the beaming of thine eye
There reigns a natural majesty
Might well become a queen;
So calm thy soul sits on its throne,
In pious ways and gentle grown,
So stainless and serene.
There reigns a natural majesty
Might well become a queen;
So calm thy soul sits on its throne,
In pious ways and gentle grown,
So stainless and serene.
No flattering tongues shall buzz about
Thy praises in the noisy rout
Where frivolous folly stirs:
Shut in these mountain solitudes,
The varying season's plenitudes
Shall be thy ministers.
Thy praises in the noisy rout
Where frivolous folly stirs:
Shut in these mountain solitudes,
The varying season's plenitudes
Shall be thy ministers.
But sometimes, in life's changeful round,
If closed in gloom my soul be bound
With care and trouble, may
Thy vision come, a thing of light,
To drive away my spirit's night,
And bring a better day.
If closed in gloom my soul be bound
With care and trouble, may
Thy vision come, a thing of light,
To drive away my spirit's night,
And bring a better day.
| Songs of A Wayfarer | |